


Bird and Dog

by nishiki



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - fathers, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Canon Divergence, Dad Jim Gordon, Dad Oswald Cobblepot, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Exile, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Martin Cobblepot - Freeform, Martin is a bamf, Snow, Snowed In, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Uncle Jim Gordon, adopting kids for the wron reasons, barbara is Jim's niece, forced vacation, secret parenthood, set during s4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-10-27 00:52:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17756684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: When Jim meets Oswald at the play of his niece's elementary school, Jim finds out a secret about Oswald Cobblepot.





	1. Prolog

If there was one place James Gordon had never expected himself to end up in, it was a crowded auditorium of a local elementary school in the better part of Gotham, surrounded by overachieving parents with starry eyes. The spotlights were almost blindingly bright and a little bit over the top for the play in an elementary school - at least as far as Jim was concerned. No wonder so many of the little guys and girls got stage-fright before the curtain was pulled back. He would have been terrified as well being illuminated like on Broadway. It was, in the eyes of the many parents surrounding him, the bare minimum for their little Tommies and Emmas.

Diving into these kinds of social activities was still odd to Jim despite the fact that he should have a little more practice with these things by now. It was the first elementary school play he ever visited in his life, though, and he came to the conclusion, now that he was sitting among all those strangers who were cheering on their babies on stage, that he should send his mother flowers more often - just for the simple fact that she had suffered through numerous of events like these for him. Though Jim had always been more driven to sports, there had been a phase in his life when he had thought that the drama club was the place for him only to quickly realize that he couldn't remember his lines even if his life would depend on it.  

Worse of all were those mothers who were jumping off their seats and cheering when their kids were on stage with complete disregard for the other children or that they were disrupting the play and possibly causing the kids on stage to forget their text. Not to mention those mothers who were ad-libbing to their kids’ parts of the play after going through their text over and over and over again together. Jim, however, sat through one hour of the Nutcracker with the utmost patience, before he rose from his seat in applause like all the other parents around him. It had been much less a ballet tonight than a group of six and seven-year-old children tumbling over the stage in bad costumes like drunk little fantasy creatures.

»Detective Gordon.«

He had just escaped the auditorium to wait in the foyer of the school like all the others as the shrill voice of a woman addressed him. He forced his face into the best grimace of his tight-lipped constipated smile that he always used when he wasn’t allowed to show his honest disdain for someone that he could muster before turning around to face Mrs. Taylor. He had made her acquaintances a long time ago on the day his little girl had started school when Mrs. Taylor decided to seize the function of the parents’ representative - with no competition because most normal parents had more than enough other things to do to fill their schedules.

Since then, Jim had gotten emails from her almost on a daily basis asking him if he would want to involve himself in more of the schools' activities. She had stopped asking him if he wanted to contribute a cake for the numerous little events the school had already held since the last time he had indeed contributed a cake. Needless to say, baking was not one of his strong suits. Neither was cooking.

»So good to see you today! I was afraid you wouldn't come!«

A part of him was mortally offended by that statement, yet he forced himself to swallow the bile in his throat and keep his mouth smiling as if his life would depend on it. He could hardly shoot her for this insinuation and locking her up in the holding cell would only mean paperwork and that she would be at his workplace where he would then have to listen to her talk possibly for hours on end. »I wouldn't miss it for anything in the world.«

»I didn't see your little princess on stage, Detective.« His little girl was a great many things and above all else a hurricane but a princess she was certainly not. Heck, Harvey was much more of a princess than her. »What part did she play?« Oh, as if she wouldn't know that already.

Mrs. Taylor was one of those mothers who would forever hold onto that little pamphlet the school had printed just because her son’s name was printed in it. Of course, her son, talentless as he was, had gotten the lead role and butchered at least ninety five percent of his lines. Not to mention that her son, Timothy, had puked into the stage decoration at one point. In her eyes, however, Timothy ( _never Timmy_ ) was meant for greatness and certainly to become a big actor in Hollywood if not the President of the United States of America.

»She was one of the flowers.« Jim replied proudly. »The blue one.«

»But the blue flowers were all boys.«

»Not all, no.« Jim smirked. His little girl had been terribly upset when her teacher had wanted to force her to be one of the pink flowers and so she got to be the only girl who was allowed to be a blue flower instead.

»Oh.« She chuckled. »How peculiar! Well, you must be very proud of your little rose then!«

»She’s more like a daisy than a rose.« He huffed. »But yes. Very proud indeed.«

»Jim?«

Of all the people he would have expected to meet in this school on this day, Oswald Cobblepot was certainly not one of those people and yet, here he was. Jim would recognize Oswald’s voice under a thousand even over the noise of talking parents surrounding them. And, sure enough, as he turned around again, there he was, the human equivalent of a viral throat infection.

Oswald was dressed, as per usual, his best while Jim was only wearing the normal suit he wore to his job every day, his hair even more of a disaster than on most days. At least, however, Oswald seemed just as spooked as he was to see him here. His striking blue eyes were blown wide as he stared at Jim now and his right hand, that rested easily on the bird shaped head of his cane before, now nervously fidgeted with it. Of course, his face did not betray him otherwise and stayed the perfectly crafted mask of the king of Gotham who seemed to have appeared out of thin air and at random here at the play of an elementary school like the devil himself.

He couldn't smell sulfur, though.

Of course, Jim was not informed about Oswald’s private little hobbies that he certainly had beside the job of being the head of the underworld and yet this was the last place he would have expected him to be at. Surely, Oswald had much better things to do than watch a god awful children's rendition of the Nutcracker, right? Tripping up unsuspecting grandmas in the middle of the street and stealing candy from toddlers certainly ranked higher on his to-do list than something as mundane and painful like this. Oswald Cobblepot was a sadist, not a masochist, after all. Yet, he was here like a monster hiding inside a closet at night. Well, even the monster inside the closet had a day-job as it appeared.

»Oswald.« His voice held the same distrust and perhaps repulsion that Jim usually reserved for the kingpin ever since they had first met in a dirty alleyway behind Fish Mooney’s former bar. It seemed a lifetime ago now. Oswald, on the other hand, didn't quite seem to be bothered by his tone of voice. He had probably grown used to it by now. »What are you doing here?«

At least that seemed to prompt an adequate response from the mobster as he puffed his chest like the peacock he was, puffing up his feathers, as he slowly stepped a little closer, each of his steps underlined sharply by the _tick-tick_ of the metal tip of his cane on the fake-marble tiles. Jim was positive that he was hiding a dagger in this cane.

»Just enjoying an afternoon of the fine arts. The Nutcracker has always been one of my favorite ballets that I enjoyed often with my mother growing up.« What he didn't say was that he used to watch it on TV because surely his mother didn't have the money to buy tickets for the ballet for herself and Oswald as Oswald had been a child. He didn't know much about Oswald's childhood and he didn't want to either, but at least that he could figure. He was a detective, after all.

»I didn't know that the rendition of the Nutcracker at an elementary school could be considered fine arts.«

Oswald pursed his lips as if he had been personally insulted by Jim’s words. In a way, Oswald reminded him of Mrs. Taylor in this way. He was curious to see how much longer Oswald could keep up this charade before he would inevitably unveil his evil masterplan to Jim which probably involved Oswald setting up a bomb in this school and taking everyone hostage for some reason or another. Not that he needed much of a reason to do anything these days. Hell, he had presented to the whole of Gotham the body of his former best friend on ice before Edward had somehow managed to escape his frosty prison a few months ago and was now once more roaming free and unsupervised. »Well, perhaps you are blind then to the minute details of the play we just enjoyed.«

»We?« Jim echoed.

»Well, I figured that you are not here to arrest some of the children for their rather … Well, let’s say lackluster performance.« The glance Oswald shot over Jim’s shoulder directly at Mrs. Taylor who was still standing behind Jim and watching the scene unfold before her very eyes, did not escape him. Neither did the sharp gasp coming from the woman that told him that not only had she noticed Oswald’s glance at her as well but had been able to understand the underlying meaning. Who would have thought?

»And since you are undoubtedly not here to instill the fear of the law in those poor little future delinquents, you probably watched the play.« Oswald continued. His voice was like velvet or melted butter and Jim knew that he was the most dangerous when he would use this voice. He was like a cat on the hunt for a mouse, trying to lure his prey with a friendly purr. »Even though that makes me quite curious as to why the great Detective James Gordon would come to watch an elementary school’s play of the Nutcracker when he could, undoubtedly, afford the real deal.«

»I could ask you the same.«

»And I would have to disappoint you when I tell you that it's a personal matter that led me here and that I do not wish to further discuss.«   

»And I would have to tell you the same thing then.« Jim replied and it felt almost like the standoff in some old western. Here they were, it was high noon and they were both ready to draw their guns and shoot. Almost it was a little comical.

Their standoff was broken only as the children were finally released into the lobby like a swarm of angry bees rushing towards their respective parents with as much noise as the fireworks on the fourth of July. »Uncle Jimmy!« His baby girl was like a whirlwind and her dark red curls bouncing with every step she took running towards him, her blue eyes gleaming with joy. He caught her in his arms as she jumped him before he could even think about it.

»Hey there, Sweetie!« The kiss he pressed to her cheek came naturally by now, as did the way Barbara clung to him now, her thin little arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her legs curling around his waist. He already mourned the day when Barbara would be too big for this or when he wouldn't be able anymore to carry her around on his shoulders. »You were awesome!«

»I was a flower.« Barbara deadpanned. »I didn't even have text. Really, Uncle Jimmy, if you think I was awesome at being a flower, you really should lower your expectations a little.«

»Lower my expectations?« He laughed. »Okay, that's it! No more hanging around with Uncle Harvey. He is corrupting you already!«

Almost he had forgotten about Oswald and the odd situation they were in. As he looked around now, he spotted Mrs. Taylor trying desperately to clean up vomit from Timothy’s shirt. As he didn't spot Oswald right away again, he decided that maybe the job had finally started taking its toll on him and that he had been hallucinating the other man, to begin with. Of course, he had. His imagination was running wild! Oswald Cobblepot at his niece’s elementary school? Of course, it was a hallucination!

And yet, right as they finally turned to leave a good fifteen minutes later, he saw the hallucination again, helping a little boy with fluffy brown curls into a coat that matched Oswald’s own perfectly. They were already at the door that led outside into the cold Gotham winter as Oswald helped the boy to dress properly before taking the little boy’s hand in his left. The cop inside of Jim wanted to stop Oswald right then and there and question him about the very obvious kidnapping that he was committing right in front of everyone just as Barbara called out for the boy.

»Martin!« She all but yelled over the noise surrounding them. The little boy at Oswald’s side turned around to look at Barbara. »Good job today! You were great!«

There was a little blush creeping into the pale cheeks of the boy, _Martin_ , before he smiled and waved at Barbara without actually saying a word. Barbara didn't seem to mind and Jim could only watch in horror and surprise how the little boy took his hand out of Oswald’s only to put an arm around Oswald’s lower waist instead, his gesture mirrored by the terror of Gotham almost instantly as he wrapped his left arm protectively around Martin’s shoulders.

»I’ll be damned.«

 

**-End of Prolog-**


	2. Chapter 2

Tugging Barbara in that night, Jim allowed himself to pause for a moment. He just sat on the edge of the bed after his little whirlwind had already fallen asleep. The events of the afternoon were still on his mind. Even a couple hours later as the night hung heavily over Gotham already, his meeting with Oswald was at the forefront of his mind. What were the odds that he would meet Oswald Cobblepot of all people at his niece’s elementary school and not only that but also see that he was in possession of a child himself. The means by what he had acquired a kid were truly beyond his comprehension. He hadn't asked Barbara about it. For her, Martin _Cobblepot_ was just Oswald Cobblepot’s son. In her mind, there was nothing weird about it at all and he would rather keep it this way.

He, on the other hand, couldn't shake off the strangeness of the situation. Jim had never imagined that Oswald would one day be a father, in fact, he would have dreaded the possibility had someone confronted him with it. To Jim, it had been clear that Oswald was gay from day one and he had thus never entertained the possibility that he might father a child. Martin was at least six years old, however, and thus Oswald might have just done so before Jim even first met the gangster bird. Or he had adopted the boy.

The thought alone made him almost laugh. Why in the heavens would Oswald Cobblepot want to adopt a child?

Well, at least he seemed to care enough for the kid that he had found his way to his elementary school to cheer him on as Martin had done his best impression of a tree. Apparently, as Barbara had told him on their way home, Martin was in her class and his niece seemed to like him a lot. She didn't know much about Oswald, though, other than that Martin would always get picked up by a fancy car after school and a sour looking gorilla.

With a sigh, he looked down on the sleeping face of his niece, her red hair was softly framing her face. Barbara Gordon. Every time he found a moment to rest and just look at the little girl in his care, he wondered if fate had brought them together in the end.

※※※※※※※

Gotham was still a weird place for James Gordon when the phone call came. The Gotham of his childhood was long gone. In the place of law-abiding good men like his father, criminals and corruption ruled the gothic city without any mercy for the weak. He had left the army one year ago with honors after his last tour to Iraq. The memories of the war were still weighing him down whenever he wasn't careful enough and allowed the horrors of the things he had seen to attack him.

Sometimes, when he slept, he was back in the convoy in the middle of the desert. He saw himself, turning his head to the driver in the front. Oliver. And Oliver would turn his head and smile before everything was turned on its head by an explosion.

These days, the nights were the worst - those hours when he couldn't distract himself with the crimes Gotham fed on. Barbara had left a little while ago, broken down after being held hostage by the mob for hours and hours just because her fiance didn't know which hornets nests not to poke his stick into. Now that Barbara was gone and with her parents, he didn't even have a warm body in the bed next to him at night to keep him grounded.

Not that Barbara Kean would have ever have grounded him in any kind of way. Barbara was not the kind of woman who would have held him in the night after a bad dream and made sure he was okay. She liked the fantasy of a strong man who came to her rescue.

Barbara was very much like a kite and the only thing keeping her from flying away at a gust of wind had been Jim. If anything he had been the one to ground her. Thinking about it, he realized that their relationship had been doomed from the start. He had met this beautiful girl right after his departure from the military just by chance in the heart of Gotham and before he had known it, they were engaged. Now Barbara’s engagement ring was resting on the coffee table in Jim’s run down apartment, waiting for the next woman to wear it. Theirs had been a whirlwind romance born from lust and Jim’s disability of being alone for too long.

Of course, only three weeks after he had last seen her, he had set his eyes on someone else already. That was just how he was and he knew it. Lee Thompkins promised him something Barbara could have never given him. She showed interest in his work, interest in the crime-ridden world he was living in. She was fearless and strong and intelligent. She was the grounding force he needed in his life so that the tides rushing through Gotham wouldn't wash him away the next time a storm would come.

Between all the madness this city provided him with, between mob wars and former umbrella boys slowly working their way up in the mob hierarchy, she was a beacon of light and hope in the darkest nights of Gotham. They weren't a couple yet but Jim knew that them getting together was inevitable. Lee Thompkins was a force of nature.

It was three o’clock in the morning when the phone call came and Jim was lying uselessly on his back on the uncomfortable mattress in his crappy apartment, staring at the questionable stains on his ceiling. Another sleepless night. In the apartment above him, his neighbor had finally stopped stomping around after a few hours of it sounding like he was practicing a step dance routine. The siren of an ambulance was screeching in the distance on the streets down below. The phone was resting right beside him on a nightstand that he had found inside the apartment when he had first rented it - just like the worn down sofa and the fridge. The electrical device was almost falling from the table as the vibrations of the call were rattling it over the wooden surface with force. Probably work, he thought. Why else would someone call him this late at night?

He thought about Oswald for a second. Then again, one might say what they want about the gangster, but the mobster was too well mannered to disrupt the sleep of a hardworking policeman. That was, at least, what he could hear him say in his mind with that annoyingly nasal voice of his. In fact, he could see his face in front of him, his beak-like nose turned up, his lips in a small disapproving frown and his blue eyes staring accusingly and yet at the same time as if Jim had hung the moon in the sky. According to the gangster bird, he held great respect for the police force and their work. It was just that he was of the opinion that police work in a city like Gotham was futile and more to be looked at as an exotic hobby.

As he grabbed his phone, he found his mother's name on the caller ID. It didn't spell out ‘Mom’. It said Patricia Gordon, which probably spoke volumes about their relationship to any outsider. Jim didn't accept the call. Instead, he just laid there, staring at the phone until the call was disconnected for good. He didn't need to hear his mother's voice. Something had happened and he didn't need to hear it. He didn't want to hear it. It was about Roger. His mother only called when it was about Roger.

»My brother is dead.« Harvey had enough common decency to actually lower his hotdog as he stared at his younger partner with wide eyes now. The wind was cuttingly cold out in the narrow streets of Gotham. Winter was settling in over Gotham and his brother was dead. Christmas was right around the corner and his brother was dead. He was alone with no one to warm him at night. A part of him had wanted to call Lee right after he had gotten the news. Instead, he had put on his suit, clipped his badge to his belt and went to work. He had not yet deleted his mother’s message from his voicemail.

»What?« Harvey asked quietly. He did his best attempt of sounding sympathetic despite the fact that he knew about his bad relationship with his brother. »What happened?«

To Jim, Harvey was much more of a brother than his actual brother Roger. Despite the devastating news, he still didn't know how to feel about it. He hadn't talked to his mother last night when she called and he hadn't slept for the rest of the night since the phone call. When he got out of bed at five AM, there had been a message on his voicemail.

»My mother called this morning.« Jim heard himself replying before taking a bite from his own hotdog. He couldn't even taste the meat of the onions. He tasted nothing. »My brother Roger and his wife Marie got into a car crash yesterday. Roger was dead on impact. Marie died around midnight during her surgery.« It helped to be clinical about it. It helped to recite the incident as he would usually do while at work. He was a cop, after all. »The funeral is in three days. I have to go home for it.«

»Of course, Pal.« Harvey’s hand rested heavily on his shoulder, a silent comfort and permission for him to actually grief his brother - if he wanted.

And yet, even three days later as he watched the casket being lowered in the ground and heard his mother weep at his side, her bony fingers digging into his arm, he couldn't feel any kind of grief for his brother or his sister in law. The last time he had seen Marie was at their wedding. As he listened to the heavy words of the priest who hadn't even known his brother or Marie, he thought about the things he might have said to his brother if they would have gotten the chance to do so.

The truth was, they had never been close. His brother had always been a condescending asshole to him and that he had stolen his girlfriend, Marie, right when Jim had been sent on his first tour with the army, had only added to the resentment that he felt for his older brother. It had only taken Roger and Marie three weeks after he had left the country to fuck. By his return, they had already been engaged. He would never forget the letter Marie had sent him.

Only a few years after that, while James had still been far away from home and trying desperately to get himself killed, he had heard that Roger and Marie had had their first child. Until he came to Metropolis, to the funeral, he had never seen his niece Barbara.

He saw her first during the funeral feast and almost he would have missed her entirely. She hadn't been allowed to attend the actual funeral - no wonder, the girl was such a tiny little thing. She had bright red hair and piercing, inquisitive blue eyes and, in the end, he had found her completely by chance, hiding under a table in his mother's dining room. His mother's house was packed with people he didn't know. Strange faces that were all so terribly sad. His mother wouldn't stop weeping for most of the day. He couldn't hold it against her. After all, she had lost her darling boy. Jim and his mother had never had a close bond and ever since his father had died, their strained relationship had only gotten worse. That was only one reason why Jim had decided to join the army so early in his life.

No one paid any attention to the little girl under the table and Jim wouldn't have seen her either, would it not be for her little feet poking out from underneath the white tablecloth that almost reached the floor. She was wearing a pink dress and pink shoes when he first saw her. She seemed more bothered by the color of her dress than the funeral or the fact that her parents were dead. Then again, she was three years old, what did she really understand of all of his anyway?

Jim felt like the only person who actually cared about the little girl as he watched her play with her dolls under the table. The girl, however, did pay him no attention until he sat down on the floor in front of the table and pulled up the tablecloth fully. Only then she looked up at him out of bright blue eyes. »Who are you?«

»I’m your uncle Jim.« He replied with a smile on his face. »And who are you?«

The little girl tilted her head to the side just a little at those words as if she had to think about his words first - or if she could trust the strange man sitting on the floor. »I’m Barbara.«

Actually hearing her name was like a punch to the guts. Barbara Gordon. As if his brother would have known. He didn't know how to feel about the name his little niece had been given or about his little niece at all. Of course, he had known before what her name was but there was a difference between knowing and actually hearing it. He had always liked kids, always envisioned himself to have children of his own even - though he was not particularly good with children.  

It was later that same day that he found himself sitting in the living room with his mother. The guests had left hours ago and Barbara was upstairs in his brother’s former bedroom to sleep. She hadn't complained once about being sent to bed by her granny.

Jim, however, just wanted to leave this place and never return, just putting a blind eye on his mother and this whole mess only to return to the mess he had left behind in Gotham. Instead, he listened to his mother drone on and on about Roger and how much she would like it if Jim would leave Gotham, the city that killed her husband, and instead return home to her. No matter how often he would tell her that Gotham was his home, she persisted.

»There is something I need to tell you, Jim.«

She didn't sound as if she was going on yet another tirade and yet Jim did not trust her not to do exactly that. He had lived through more than enough drunken tirades of his mother and the fact that she was down to her fourth glass of wine just since they had sat down in the living room, did not bode well. »Of course, Mom.«

»It's about Barbara.« She sighed gently.

»She is very cute.« That was what people usually said in terms of children, right? »I saw her earlier … The first time I ever saw her, actually.«  

»Yes … Yes … You didn't come to her christening.«

»I wasn't invited.« He wouldn't have come regardless but that was nothing he needed to discuss with his mother now. In her eyes, the fact that Jim had not been invited was to no fault of her darling son Roger.

His eyes roamed the familiar room that still was so very strange to him these days. He had been a kid when they moved away from Gotham - when he lost his father. He had spent his adolescence in Metropolis and in this very house and yet it never felt like home. Perhaps that too was only one more reason for him to join the army when he did. Ever since he had left Gotham, he hadn't felt like he belonged. For just a moment, his eyes got stuck at a photography of his father on the mantelpiece. It was the same photo he had in his apartment. His wise blue eyes and his friendly smile, the same as in the night he had died, were still guiding Jim through his toughest days.

Sometimes he wondered how things might have turned out if his father had never died. His mother just pinched her lips just slightly as she followed his gaze. He wondered if she was pondering the same thought as he. His mother had not remarried since his father, but she had been close three times in the past decade. She was, just like his brother, not much of a loner. And she had always enjoyed the attention of men. Jim was certain that now that his brother was dead, it would only a matter of months until she would have found a new man.

»Anyway.« She sighed. »Your brother and his wife, as you know, were very foresightful people.«

Jim bit back the comment that his brother Roger had been anything but foresightful. He had been exceptionally good to keep up appearances and make it look as if he had everything under control but the truth was that Marie had been the one to keep everything under control. Some might even go as far as to say that Marie had been a control freak.

»You see, right after the birth of little Barbara, your brother fell into a little crisis, you know? He thought about your father a lot back then and he was afraid that his life might end as abruptly as your father’s did too.«

Jim felt his stomach clench at those words and the bile rising in his throat. Roger and his father had never been close. They had argued a lot, especially right before his death. Of course, Roger’s fear seemed to have come true and yet, Jim was just angry. Of course, his brother made everything about himself - even the death of their father.

»He wanted to have his affairs in order when Barbara was born. You might even say that he was obsessed with getting everything in order in case he would die prematurely. So, he and Marie made their testaments shortly after Barbara’s first birthday, just to keep her safe in the unlikely event something would happen to both of them. I thought that they were a bit paranoid, back then, but, as we see now, they were not.«

»Mom … Please, would you just get to the point?«

»Well, as you know, Marie didn't have any family left.« He nodded even though he felt his stomach turn at his impending doom. A part of him already knew where this conversation was headed, yet he refused to fully acknowledge it. »So she and your brother decided that, in the event of their death, they wanted you to take care of Barbara.«

It was at this moment that the world seemed to stop turning for Jim. For the longest time, there was only white noise pulsating in his ears. He couldn't form a coherent thought, not even a real emotion that would allow him to connect to the moment better. He was drifting on the waves in Gotham harbor during a violent thunderstorm. The waves were crashing down over his head. There was nothing he could do.

His brother had wanted him to take care of his daughter?

»Why?« The question was more of a whisper, his voice hoarse as if he hadn't said anything for days and had now trouble finding it again. »Why would he do something like that?«

»Well, you are his little brother … Roger loved you dearly, James. He was so sorry for your falling out.«

»No.« He grunted as he rose from his seat on the couch on instinct. He needed to get out. He needed to get away. From this house. From Metropolis. From everything. »No, Mom, I warn you, don't you dare to put this on me again!«

»What do you mean?«

»You cannot sit there and say my brother loved me and was sorry for what he did to me. Roger cared only for one person and that was Roger! Everything he did had some ulterior motive.«

And oh, didn't he already know more people than he could count that were like this?

Oswald Cobblepot came to mind again, with his sly smiles and the desperate need to please. A sycophant through and through, ready to claw his way to the top by any means necessary.

»You are ridiculous, James!« The waver in her voice told him that she was close to tears yet again. Crocodile tears. »Your brother decided that he would trust you above everyone else with his baby girl and you have the audacity to say that he did this out of some kind of ulterior motive? James, I am so disappointed in you! Not everything is about you!«

As he arrived back in Gotham a few days later, everything felt different. Almost it was as if he was seeing the city for the first time as it really was. As if he had been living in some kind of illusion of the city, a dream, a bubble that now violently burst.

As he drove down the busy streets of the central district of Gotham, he saw the filth in the streets, the overflowing trash cans along the road, the junkies cowering in doorways in search for warmth in the pouring rain that always seemed to reign over Gotham in the only to be replaced by heavy snowfalls as soon as Christmas rolled around. He saw the people that were arguing with each other in the streets, the child-thieves that were running rampant in Gotham these days running from store-clerks or young untrained cops. He saw the danger that held Gotham in a tight, unrelenting grip, the mobsters that were clawing their way to the top.

As he stopped at a red light near Barmonte’s restaurant, he saw a young man with black hair leave the restaurant in a fine suit and polished shoes. He wrinkled his beak-like nose at the smell in the streets and opened his black umbrella against the rain. For a moment, as Jim waited for the light to switch, their eyes met through the window of the passenger’s seat. The young man gave a friendly wave in his direction but Jim turned his head away again. Making eye contact with Oswald Cobblepot for too long had the tendency of bringing forth very uncomfortable conversations, usually about one favor or another that he owed the young mobster - despite the fact that he shouldn't owe Oswald anything after sparing his life.

 _I will be your slave for life!_ Hadn't he said this? Then why was it always Jim who had to pay him a favor? The light turned green before the young mobster had time to waddle over to his car and maybe knock against his window. He had seen it in the smile that had spread over Oswald’s pastry-colored, freckled face that this was exactly what he had wanted to do. Driving off, he cast a small glance in the rearview mirror and watched how Oswald sharply turned his back and proceeded down the street - clearly offended by Jim’s quick departure.

Not giving the younger man what he wanted, gave Jim a sick sense of satisfaction at all times. It was a game they were playing. A constant game of tug of war. They were both entirely too proud to give in to the others demands too often and obviously. Despite their differences, Jim was still very much aware of the fact that there was nothing he could ever tell Oswald that the mobster would judge him for.

The closer he came to his apartment, the clearer it became to him what kind of a cesspool Gotham really was. Gotham was not a nice town, not a beautiful town, not a town you would normally call home and bring a small child into. Gotham was dark and dangerous, a place where the most corrupt and vile people thrived. And yet, as he arrived at his apartment, he still picked up the little girl in his backseat to carry her into her new home.

His little apartment in central Gotham was horribly unsuited for a child so small - or any child. He would need to move. _Wait_ , he thought. There was no way that he would keep Barbara, right? Yes, his brother had decided that he needed to take care of his baby girl but how could anyone really expect him to do something like this? How could his mother … She knew that he was a cop in one of the most corrupt and dangerous cities of the U.S.! His life was one of chaos and danger and there was no way he would ever be able to keep that little girl safe! Already at the moment, he placed the little girl on his own bed, he felt like he was failing her completely.

He had stayed no more than three days in Metropolis after the funeral to get everything settled and in order. Three days to get to know his niece and pack her stuff. She was only three and didn't quite seem to understand why mommy and daddy weren't coming home while she seemed already used to the fact that her parents were rarely home at all.

His mother had told him that his brother and Marie had hired a nanny for the baby, both too busy with their jobs and social lives to actually care for their child. He couldn't afford a nanny. He could hardly afford this apartment and soon he would probably be dead because this job was going to kill him without a doubt. The next maniac that would rise from nothing would be the end of him. How was he supposed to keep Barbara safe? How was he supposed to give her the life she deserved? Clearly, his brother hadn't wasted a second to think about all of this logically. No, Roger had only seen what he wanted to see. He had always tried to make Jim dance from his strings and with Barbara, he was one step closer to that.

Caring for such a small creature like Barbara was completely out of the realm of Jim Gordon’s abilities. He was a masterful shot, a good detective but a father? Hell no. He was not the only one who could see this. His inadequacy had never been more prevalent than in the moment when he saw himself confronted with Barbara’s big blue eyes in the middle of the night only hours after they arrived in Gotham.

»I want ice cream.« It was the middle of winter, Christmas soon to roll around and in addition to that, it was almost midnight. He couldn't blame the little girl for being wide awake. She had slept the whole car ride from Metropolis to Gotham, after all. All three days he had spent in his mother's house with her and the little girl, his mother had sent Barbara to take a nap or sleep constantly as if she couldn't be bothered to actually take care of the kid. Then again, his mother had never been the motherly type, to begin with.

He thought, briefly, about Miss Kapelput, Oswald's mother. He had only met her once by now but she had seemed quite loving. That her son was such a sociopath was an odd result of the loving care she took of him. Well, he was quite the Norman Bates character.

»Icecream?« Jim echoed with confusion etched into his features but the girl only nodded. »It's the middle of the night.«

He expected a tantrum. The girl was three years old, after all. The tantrum, however, never came. Instead, Barbara just nodded her understanding and looked around the flat with big curious eyes that made Jim wonder how much she understood of the situation. With a sigh, he grabbed her winter coat and held it in front of her.

»You know what? It's a special night. Your first night in Gotham. Let's find a nice diner to eat at and then we’ll have ice cream.« Already, he thought, he was too lenient with the little girl. On the other hand, he was her uncle and were uncles and aunts not supposed to spoil their nephews and nieces?

※※※※※※※

These days, everything seemed crazy. Certainly, that was not Sofia’s fault perse. Gotham had always been crazy - she was just a new player in the game and he was not completely innocent that she was causing drama now. It was not rare for him to slump down on his beaten down sofa after a long day at the GCPD these days. Sometimes, when he would slump on the sofa, he imagined what his life would look like if he would still be alone in his house. Barbara was, without a doubt, the best thing that had ever happened to him, though.

It might be true that he hadn't been able to hold down a relationship ever since the little girl stepped into his life but that was hardly her fault. Jim simply was not very good at holding down a healthy relationship with anyone - Harvey and Barbara being the only exceptions to the rule. The women he found were all equal parts beautiful, smart and strong - and they simply didn't like to put up with his bullshit for too long.

With Lee, he thought, he could have had a real relationship, a future, a family. But then Nygma tried to frame him for murder and almost sent him to Blackgate and she lost their baby due to all the stress surrounding them at the time. She had been a broken woman when he had left Gotham, her morale torn down by the city. These days, even when he would look at Barbara brooding over her dreaded homework and imagine how it would be if Lee would be here with their baby too, he thought that maybe it was better this way.

He imagined often a warm home to return to, Lee’s sunny smile, the smell of good food, the laughter of children. A home. A real home. Something he had not had since his father's death. »Uncle Jim you are burning the pancakes!«  

»Oh, shit!«

»That's three dollars for the swear glass!« Barbara chirped from where she sat on the carpet in front of the couch to do her homework on the coffee table. Would it be any other person in the world, Jim would have been annoyed but Barbara just made him smile. She would be swearing like a drunken sailor before she turned sixteen. Harvey’s bad influence.

»I know, I know!« He wheezed as he quickly turned his attention back to dinner. Pancakes for dinner … His mother would slap him on the back of his head. »Are you about finished? Dinner is almost ready. I could use your help setting the table.«

The table he was referring to was the coffee table. It was Friday night and by now it had become somewhat of a tradition that they would have pancakes and eat dinner in their pajamas in front of some silly movie until Barb would fall asleep. Every week he found himself looking forward immensely to Friday night. It was just easy with the little girl. Of course, they had had their fair share of ups and downs in the past four years but Barbara was the best partner he could have hoped for in this messy world they were living in. She was just as much watching out for her socially award uncle than the other way around.

 _Every superhero needs a sidekick._ That was what she had once told him after an especially long and harrowing day.

Barbara made quick work of shoving her homework into her backpack and Jim knew that they would have a frank discussion about her homework come Sunday evening. That was a problem for Sunday-Jim, though. Then again, the winter holidays would begin on Tuesday. It was only one more day of school before the Christmas break. Why torture his little girl with math homework?

 _Discipline_ , a voice inside his head reminded him. Discipline. But what good would it do him if he taught her all about discipline when she would spend most of her holiday break at the GCPD and be confronted with Harvey who would devour one donut after another only to complain later about his expanding waistline.

It wasn't long before they reclaimed their Friday night positions in front of the TV, munching happily on two huge piles of pancakes. Half of it, Barbara would later shove towards him to finish but Jim didn't mind so much. Unlike Harvey, his waistline was not expanding because he was still running after criminals like the rookie he had once been. »So how was school today?«

»Odd.« Came Barbara’s muffled response through a mouth full of pancakes.

»Odd?«

»Martin wasn't there.« Barbara frowned. »He hasn’t been to school since Wednesday. Martin never misses a day of school.« Martin Cobblepot. Jim had the feeling that he would hear the name a lot more often than he wished he would in the future.

»Surely, he is just sick. It's gotten quite cold. I guess it will soon begin to snow. You know how winters in Gotham are. Most kids are sick so shortly before the holidays.«

»Not me!« She frowned.

»No.« He huffed. »You are strong as a bull. You are never sick.« It was true, Jim had more often had a cold than his little girl.

»Can we build a snowman when it snows?«

»We can build an army of snowmen right in front of the GCPD with Harvey next week.«

»Awesome!« She squealed and he ruffled her red hair gently. Still, her words didn't quite leave him. Martin hadn't been to school? Well, of course, he had first heard of the boy last week when he had visited the play and seen the little boy at Oswald’s side but since then it hadn't quite left him that Oswald Cobblepot had a kid. Somehow. He shrugged his thoughts off. Surely, everything was alright. The little boy just had a cold. If Oswald was anything like his mother, he would be smothering the boy with attention right now.

He could almost see Oswald fretting over his boy like some old-fashioned housewife, fluffing his pillows and burying him under a mountain of blankets, the smell of fresh chicken soup lingering in the child’s bedroom. He would give an arm and a leg for homemade chicken soup.

»I’m sure Martin will be back by Monday.« He promised her as her eyes were already glued to some cartoon. »And if you like to, we can surely invite him over some time.« Although Oswald was probably keeping that boy in some gilded cage. That he was allowing the child to visit a public school was surprise enough. Yet, the way Barbara’s blue eyes lit up was worth that empty promise.

Jim was already done with his own pancakes as there was a knock on his door that made him look up in surprise. Barbara seemed unfazed by the unannounced visitor as her uncle rose from his spot beside her. It was probably just Harvey dropping by for a beer and a chat with his favorite Gordon. Which was not Jim. _Uncle_ Harvey had taken to his role almost right away and with a passion too. He doted on Barb even more than Jim could possibly do.

»Be right back.« He announced with a sigh and walked over to the door. If it was Harvey on the other side then his partner had seen him on numerous occasion in his pajamas which consisted of a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt from the army. And if it wasn't Harvey … Well, it was Friday night and he didn't need to explain his appearance. What he was greeted with on the other side of that door, however, was something he wouldn't have fathomed in his wildest dreams.

Panting, soaking wet from the rain outside, ruffled from the wind that brought forth the first December storm of many more to come, stood Oswald Cobblepot, even though he was leaning heavily against the doorframe. Jim noticed drops of blood on the ground to his feet and, more importantly, a scared looking six-year-old at Oswald’s left side, one arm wrapped almost protectively around Oswald’s hips as if he was giving the mobster support in his obvious pain.

»What the hell?«

»Six dollars for the swear glass!« Barbara chimed over the sound of an anvil falling on some poor cartoon character.

»Help us!«

 

**-End of Chapter 2-**


	3. Chapter 3

He didn't regret his decision. Not when he would look at Martin as he lay in his bed with his plush penguin in his arms. He would spend hours watching his little boy sleep peacefully if he could. These days, between all the scheming, the drama and the betrayals, between the ever-looming threat posed by Sofia Falcone and others, watching his son sleep was the highlight of his bleak days.

In short, regret was not the word he was looking for when it came to Martin.

He did not regret adopting Martin, did not regret choosing to adopt a child. Only the circumstances that led to this decision and the way everything had played out in the end, filled him with a deep level of regret and grief for a friendship long lost.

Back then, he had been so naive. He had been so blind.

※※※※※※※

The hustle and bustle of city hall filled him with joy. Who would have thought that being around so many sycophants and stuck-up people would fill him with any sense of fulfillment? He had always frowned upon people like his secretary who hurried over to him on sharply clicking stiletto heels to hand him the report he was waiting for. »That's your twelve o’clock appointment.« His secretary, Miranda, smiled. »And Mr. Nygma is currently making sure that you will get the documents you will need for your dinner with the Commissioner.«

»Of course, he will.« Sometimes he couldn't help but wonder what this woman thought he knew about her boss or Edward. Sometimes he had a hard time biting back sharp and unnecessarily mean comments. Not that he would care if he would hurt this woman’s feelings - or anyone’s feelings for that matter - but it just wouldn't be professional. He could shout and screech and throw tantrums all he wanted when it came to the underworld side of things.

»He never disappoints me.« The sharp glare he directed at Miranda was more than enough to remind the young woman of the few times she had not fulfilled her role to his satisfaction in the short timespan that she was actually working for him now. Admittedly, Oswald held his staff to the highest standards and so did Ed. Sometimes, he wondered, if he put the bar too high. There was really only one person in city hall who could reach this level of excellence, after all. Miranda, in turn, bit her bottom lip and smeared red lipstick all over her front teeth in the process without even noticing the faux-pas. Oswald would not tell her either. She should have learned by now how to behave like a proper lady. It wasn't that hard.

»Is there anything else you need, Mr. Mayor?«

»Yes.« The response escaped him before he could properly think about it. »Speaking of Mr. Nygma … Is he here yet?«

»No.« She didn't even seem surprised by the question. If anything, she looked a bit annoyed that Oswald would ask for his chief of staff. Clearly, anything he could want from Ed, she would be able to do just the same as his secretary.

»Quite unlike him to run late like this.« He hummed out of reflex and forced himself not to worry his bottom lip between his teeth.

»Not since he started dating this woman.«

»What?«

»Oh … I am so sorry, Mayor Cobblepot … I was just thinking out loud. I didn't mean to say-«

»What didn't you mean to say, Miranda?« The sigh was beyond annoyed at this point. »Out with it.«

»It's just … I know that you think that Mr. Nygma is infallible.« Her claim took her by surprise. Then again, it was probably obvious that he thought Edward to be a lot smarter than anyone else in this building. »Everyone knows that. It is just that he tends to follow his own schedule as if the rules wouldn't apply to him.«

»Edward is above the rules my staff has to follow.«

»See? And that is a problem, Mr. Cobblepot. People talk.«

Not that he cared about the usual workplace gossip, but now Miranda had him intrigued. »And what are they talking about?«

She seemed flustered at this question. Her cheeks turned pink. Definitely not a good look for her. It was not that very charming, cute kind of pink that would only highlight her cheek. It was the blotchy kind of pink that made her look like she had a rash. »They talk about the reasons for the unequal treatment of Mr. Nygma. Of course, I do realize that those are just stupid little rumors, Sir. But the others talk and I am afraid that this could ruin your reputation.«

»What rumors?«

»That you and Mr. Nygma are more than just friends.«

This indeed was quite a surprising answer. Was he so obvious in his affections for Ed? He couldn't deny that he loved him but he had always thought himself to be a better actor when it came to those aspects of his life. The thought that people talked about him and Edward in this way bothered him. It wouldn't bother him quite so much would Edward be single and perhaps even interested in him.

»As you already said before, Miranda, Edward is in a relationship. I already met Miss Flint once or twice and I can assure you that Edward seems very happy with her - not that it's any of your business or that of the other staffers. Anyway, I do realize that people like to gossip and I appreciate your honesty and your concern for my reputation. Is that all then?«

He caught Miranda placing a comforting hand on his left biceps. It wasn't the first time that this happened. Lately, she often used their close proximity when she would lean over his desk to place documents before him to touch him on the shoulder or brush her fingers over his hand. He had noticed two weeks ago that her skirts had become shorter and her neckline deeper by the day. She would bend over his desk in such a way that she could be sure he would see her bra - which wasn't much of a challenge when her bosom nearly fell out of her blouse anyway. It hadn't even come as that much of a surprise that she would choose black lace underwear for such occasions. Not very ladylike indeed.

He was not blind to these things - neither was he blind to her advances.

»I just wondered … I know that I may be overstepping a line here, Mayor Cobblepot, but I wondered if you would like to join me for dinner tonight.« Before he could say something, he felt her fingers gently brush up his arm and to his shoulder. It was just a fleeting gesture, not too intimate to be misjudged by anyone who would stumble upon them now. »It's just … We work together for a month now and we hardly know each other. I thought maybe it would be nice to change that.«

He cleared his throat and clasped his hands tightly on his desk. Her perfume was stifling. It didn't suit her at all. It was too heavy and too sweet and it remembered him of Lisa, that poor girl Fish had groomed into working for her. Miranda wore bright red nail polish but the polish was cracked and chipped away on at least three of her nails that he could see now. It was at least three days old and probably a cheap brand which told Oswald that she did not invest a great deal in keeping her appearance immaculate. She probably didn't have the money for a salon every month.

»So … Eight o’clock, chez moi? Sounds good? I am making coq au vin. If you would just bring the wine-«

»I am gay, Miranda.« The response startled her enough to retrieve her fingers as if burned by him suddenly. Not that it would be the first time that he had had this effect on people. »So, you see, I am afraid that you are wasting your time. I would appreciate it, though, if you could begin to dress a little more modestly now that you know that your advances are wasted on me. Otherwise, I would be forced to start looking for someone to replace you.«

Her cheeks quickly turned from pink to a bright red. Not an expression of being flustered anymore but one of fury as she quickly turned on her heels and escaped the room. As she fled his office, she happened to almost run into Edward who was just walking in from the hallway.

»Did you scare off another one?« Ed smirked as he closed the door and his words actually drew a small chuckle out of Oswald in response. He should feel affronted by his words but, looking at Edward, he just couldn't bring himself to feel anything but the hyperactive beating of his heart and the warmth in his chest. He was doing his hair differently now. The sides of his head were shaved off smoothly. Not too short, just enough to stand out against the top of his head. The lines of his green suit were sharper and he wore the green silk tie that Oswald had given him as a gift after the inauguration. Oh … Didn't he look just gorgeous?

»Perhaps.« Oswald replied leaning back in his chair. »She was the second one who decided it would be a great idea to fuck her way to the top.«

»I can't blame them for wanting a piece of the mayor.« Ed huffed and sat down on the edge of his desk, one foot firmly on the ground, the other dangling slightly above.

»Those women just want the status, Edward.« He scolded gently. »And the money, of course. That's about it. None of those women would look twice at me would I still be a simple umbrella boy. It's the power that draws them in like a moth to a flame. Power, my dearest Edward, makes even the most  undesirable of men desirable.«

Ed rolled his eyes at that. »I don't like it when you deprecate yourself, Oswald. You are desirable, you have always been desirable. Though I must say, I feel for those poor ladies, and for the next as well, that they are so blind for the truth. Maybe you should hire a male secretary next, this way, you would at least get something out of it as well. Although I have to admit that I would miss the show. It's always great fun when they start flirting with you or start dressing more provocatively just to get your attention.«

Oswald couldn't help but roll his eyes at this. »Edward Nygma, you are indeed terrible.«

»Thats what Isabella says too.«

Her name never failed to sour his mood. It was not her fault, of course, but the fact that she was so close to the man he loved, the fact that she got to touch and kiss him, made him hate her with a burning hot passion. Maybe he should have seen it coming from a mile away, though. Edward was a good looking guy - of course, sooner or later, some harlot would dig her claws into him. Oswald was not the only one who had seen what a snack this man was. He had wasted days fighting himself before he had finally found the courage to tell Edward how he truly felt and then it had been too late. However, Isabella Flint was bothering him deeply. Something just wasn't right about her and not just the fact that she looked like a carbon copy of Ed’s ex-girlfriend, Miss Kringle.

»She is a smart woman.« Oswald agreed. »She has to be, I suppose, as a librarian. I missed you during dinner last night. I suppose you spent the night with your lady love.«

»Yes.« His expression changed. Usually, Edward looked like a lovestruck teenager whenever talking about this god-awful boring woman. Now, he seemed a little worried instead. His heart rejoiced at that. Of course, he wanted to see Edward happy first and foremost - but he would like it more if Ed would be happy with him instead.

In the beginning, right after this whole drama with Isabella had started, Oswald had been all too glad to help Edward to break up with her. Oh, his poor Edward had been such a wreck when he came home and told him that he was afraid he would hurt her. And oh, how furious had he been when Edward and Isabella got back together? He had had the phone in hand already that day, ready to give the order to cut the brakes on her car so that she might have an accident when she would drive to that boring conference of hers. And yet, he hadn't done it. He had hung up on Gabe without a word and Isabella had safely driven to the conference and safely returned to Edward.

There was a part of him still regretful of this decision. A part that wondered if Edward might have sought comfort in his arms in his grief had Isabella died. Then again, Edward was not stupid. He would have figured out the truth sooner or later and he would have never forgiven him, never seen that Oswald just aimed to protect him. Oswald knew that the day would come that Edward would kill this woman. He had told her about her attempt of therapy on him, how she had forced him to put his hands around her neck the same way he had done with Kristen. This dull creature was playing with fire and sooner or later she would burn herself to a crisp.

Oswald might not be the most patient man but for Edward, he could wait.

»Something wrong?«

»No … Not exactly.«

»Ed.« He reached out as he so often did and took Ed’s left hand in his. A gesture of friendship, nothing more. At least to Ed who seemed so blind to his feelings. »I am your best friend, aren’t I? Please, you know that you can tell me absolutely anything. I won’t judge.«

»I know.« Ed smiled and patted his hand with his right hand before resting it on top of Oswald’s. He couldn't help the warmth spreading from his hand through his entire body. »I know. Oh well … It's rather stupid. We had a fight.«

His heart jumped at the sound of it but he schooled his features into a mask of neutrality. »Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Tell me about it. Maybe we can figure out together what went wrong.«

»What would I do without you?« What indeed?

»You would be hopeless without me.« Edward chuckled at his words and the sound made his heart, that dark lump in his chest, flutter a little.

»Anyway … It's rather silly. But … Well, Isabella and I talked about the future, like a couple does, right?« A bit hasty after only a few weeks, Oswald thought bitterly. »Subsequently, as such conversations have the tendencies to do, it turned to the question of children.«

»Children?« Oswald echoed in surprise. Of course, he knew that this was a topic of the utmost importance for most women, especially when they were already in their thirties. Still, wasn't it a little early to talk about kids?

»She asked me if I wanted kids someday. Not right now, evidently. But someday in the future.«

»Oh.« Edward and he had talked about this before in the past. A quiet little conversation between two good friends in front of a fireplace with a glass of red wine. They had talked about their pasts, their childhoods, parents, forgotten dreams and wishes, the paths they thought they would follow through life as children. Ed had told him how he always wanted to become a proper medical examiner but how he had always been denied the job despite his qualifications. He had talked about the death of his mother at his father’s hands and how he had left his hometown with eighteen in the middle of the night.

And Oswald, in turn, had told him about his mother and the bullies at school. He had told him how his mother had always thought that everyone liked him and couldn't fathom the thought that someone might not love her little boy the same way she did. He had told him about Fish and how he had gotten a job at her place and how he had always wished to become a lawyer when he had still been a child.

Hell, he knew more about Edward Nygma than this woman could possibly ever know! He knew Edward as well as he knew himself. And thus, he knew what Edward thought about that very topic as well.

»Yeah.« Ed drove a hand through his dark hair. »I told her what I told you before, that I didn't want to have children of my own because mental illness runs rampant in my family tree. I would never force this upon an innocent child, Oswald. You know that.«

»I know, Ed.« He remembered the conversation. He remembered how torn he had been. Ed had told him about his mother who had been talking to numerous people that weren’t there, he had told him about his aunt who was living in a psychiatric institution since she turned sixteen, he had told him about the numerous suicides in his family tree and how he had decided to get a vasectomy when he had turned nineteen. »How did she react?«

»She was heartbroken. I told her that the reaction was a little over dramatic, after all, we only know each other for a few weeks and now is hardly the time to talk about children, right?« Edward looked heartbroken himself and Oswald could already tell why so he gripped his hand tighter. »She didn't understand. She was furious. Oh, Oswald … What am I supposed to do now? Sooner or later she will learn the truth. She will know that I made sure that I would never have children of my own and then she will certainly leave me. It's so hard to figure everything out sometimes.«

»You have made your decision a long time ago, Edward and it was a sensible one at this too.« Maybe not the most comforting thing to say. Just because a decision was right and sensible didn't mean it felt this way too. »You know about your condition and the very real possibility that your biological children would inherit this from you. If Isabelle forces you to change your opinion about something as serious as this and reverse the procedure, or if she leaves you because of it, maybe she isn’t the right fit.«

»Isabella.« Edward corrected, by now almost on instinct. »You really think this? That she isn't the right fit?«

»Oh, my dear Edward. This woman is like a mirror image of you. You love the same things, she even likes riddles and she sorts her books in that system you prefer. However, that alone is not enough for a stable relationship per se.« He had to be careful now. »Especially not if your partner tries to force you into a decision so groundbreaking so early in your relationship. If her love for you is as strong and as real as your love for her, she will understand. Plus, a biological child is not the only solution, I am sure she realizes that.«

»Do you think so?«

»She is, as we already pointed out, a very intelligent woman. I am sure, when you talk to her next about that topic and tell her that adoption is as valuable an option as biological offspring, she will understand. After all, so many children in Gotham are without parents, isn't that true? There are so many poor little souls waiting for loving parents. You know that I am not the biggest fan of children in general, but I was always of the opinion that having biological children in our day an age, especially in a position of wealth and power, is most selfish. Why bring another life into the world just to stroke your own ego and ensure that your superior DNA lives on when there are thousands of children without a family out there.«

»You are right.« Oswald smiled his brightest smile at Edward’s words before his best friend jumped off the desk again. »But now there is work to do.«

»Tally-ho, then.«

The orphanage was loud; a bustling hive of activity. Children were running around without a care in the world for the adults they almost ran over. It was Oswald’s job to keep up appearances, to smile politely at the shenanigans around him for the press and shake hands with the director. Usually, those things were only made bearable for Oswald when Edward would be around and have his back. He couldn't stand all those parasites hovering around him as he was doing his best to keep a polite smile and feign interest in the newly reopened orphanage.

Well, cutting giant red ribbons with an even more oversized pair of golden scissors never got old at least.

All those people around him wanted money. That was just a fact of his new job as the mayor of Gotham. No matter where he turned, everyone was out for his money and favor. Then again, was it this different from how people behaved around him when he was still _just_ the king of Gotham? In the end, everyone always only wanted his money or notoriety to further themselves.

Except for Edward. Ed Nygma he had to exclude from that list.

Maybe Edward was the only exception to that rule. He had never asked anything of Oswald, after all. Everything Oswald had given the other man, he had done so at his own volition and long before he had even fallen for him. Edward had been there for him when he had needed him the most, after all. He had nursed him back to health after his mother’s death and he had helped him win the elections fairly. Without Edward, he would have never realized that the people of Gotham loved him and truly wanted him to be their leader. He couldn't deny that it was a great feeling to walk among the streets of his beloved city and feel welcome and loved for the very first time in his life.

Oswald was walking the former hotel with the director of the orphanage as the man told him of the history of this building and how the previous building in which the orphanage had been established in had been demolished a few months ago by a bomb. Luckily, all the kids and staff had been on one of the very rare outings at the zoo. One might say it was a little coincidental especially since the previous building had been insured for a hefty amount of money. But Oswald only grinned and bore the explanations and moved on until his eyes got caught on a little boy.

They were just passing by the open glass doors to the small courtyard where most of the kids were playing happily as Oswald spotted the boy. With his curly brown hair, he reminded Oswald immediately of Edward and this impression was only furthered as he witnessed how the kid was shoved around by the other, bigger, children around him until he fell hard to the ground and scraped open his knee. Oswald remained where he was, watching the boy how he angrily got back to his feet, ripped a notepad out of the hands of his bullies and stormed off into the building.

The next time he saw the kid, he was by himself in one of the classrooms and tried burning the backpack of another kid. It didn't need a genius to realize that the backpack belonged to one of his tormentors. As Oswald was now alone for some precious moments to roam these halls by himself, he walked into the classroom as quietly as possible with his fine leather shoes squeaking on the polished floorboards and his cane _tick-tick-ticking_ on the ground.

»What do you think you’re doing?« Luckily the boy had not yet lit the match in his hand, otherwise, he might have set the whole room aflame as he dropped the match and the matchbox in terror before he whirled around to face off with the adult in front of him.

He could tell that the boy knew who he was (of course, he knew) but he didn't seem as shy or intimidated by his presence as the other kids had been previously when Oswald had been forced to greet them for the cameras. He looked at him somewhat guilty but certainly not afraid as he, with little hesitation, took hold of the notepad that someone had hung around his neck like a sign on some prized animal and startled scribbling something. As he turned the notepad for Oswald to see, he almost laughed at the crudely drawn picture of a fire. The boy’s expression didn't waver and became even less guilty.

»You cannot do things like that.« Oswald replied calmly. »Your enemies will know it was you.«

※※※※※※※

There was only one thing certain in his life: Whenever he dared to find joy in something some schoolyard bully would come around and rip it from his hands. Namely Sofia Falcone in this case. He should have seen it coming from a mile away and maybe he had seen it coming too. It wasn't as if he had truly believed Sofia’s allure of friendship to begin with. He had seen what game she was playing right from the start. And yet he had underestimated her.

That was, in the end, how he found himself under the Crown Point Bridge in the middle of a foggy night. It was an old western standoff as he stood under the bridge, his car and those of his lackeys behind him, Victor Zsasz at his side and in front of him Sofia Falcone and the Sirens with his boy in their clutches. And that was also why he found himself and his boy in mortal danger a few hours later that same night as the mansion was suddenly erupting into chaos.

Sofia had taken his boy from his bedroom with the help of those wretched women, Tabitha Galavan and Barbara Kean, four days ago and had held him captive to force Oswald to turn over the control of the underworld to Sofia and leave Gotham for good. And although he had Martin back now, though his little boy was safe and unscathed, Oswald knew the danger they were in even before the first shots erupted in the mansion. Of course, Oswald had not just given into her demands. He had gotten Martin back under the pretense of doing so before telling his men to shoot up the place. Maybe that had been a mistake.

They had arrived in the early hours of the night back at the house. Their escape from Crown Point Bridge had only been successful thanks to Victor’s help but Victor wasn’t here now. He had stayed back to keep the women occupied while Oswald and Martin escaped from the side.

»To the backdoor!« Oswald hissed at Martin as the first shot fell in the house. He could hear one of his henchmen groan out in pain, glass shattering in the front hallway, and didn't waste any second thought of staying here and defend his house. Sofia wouldn't shy away from killing his son or Oswald - especially not Oswald. Staying would be stupid.

It was complete chaos as he shooed Martin through the ancient family house, into the kitchen and out of the back door that led to the vast gardens of the estate. They needed to be quick and silent and Oswald barely had time to grab a gun of his own while Martin only collected one of his plush dolls and his beloved penguin plush from the sofa in the living room.

Under different circumstances, would it not be for Martin’s safety, Oswald would have stayed at the house and taken his attackers out one by one, risking his own life if necessary. However, adopting this boy had changed him in more than one way. His first priority now was his son and to keep him safe. He could always come back and take revenge, he could always rip his empire back out of Sofia’s claws. She wasn't meant for this city or for this work. She was a loose cannon and the other families would soon see it.

He knew that his henchmen were close behind him, making sure that the attackers wouldn't get to him and Martin but he could hear them fall one by one as he was ushering Martin into the night, his little hand tightly in his own. The darkness would swallow them soon and the thick woods behind the house would help to cloak them against their followers. He knew that it was madness to run into the forest with his boy in the middle of the night but he couldn't just take one of his cars and try to escape now - not in a hail of bullets.

Running was not exactly his strong suit thanks to his disability but they reached the forest line quickly enough before another shot tang through the night. He felt the pain in his leg before he even realized what had happened.

 

**-End of Chapter 3-**


	4. Chapter 4

The traffic down in the streets from his apartment sounded like waves crashing against the shoreline - to him at least. The traffic never seemed to die down in Gotham  City but Jim was used to the sounds of this lively city that never quite fell asleep no matter how dark the night. He had grown up in a remote part of Metropolis after the death of his father, just on the outskirts in his mother’s nice suburban house and yet he had gotten used to the noise of Gotham quite quickly after his return.

Even late at night, it never quieted down and, in a sense, this was a calming thought for Jim. Odd, how he usually wouldn't even notice the sounds of the city when he would go to sleep, exhausted from another long day at the GCPD where he desperately tried for some semblance of peace in this god-forsaken city. He had returned to Gotham with the goal of cleaning up the city and the GCPD but back then he had been a lot more naive than he was now. If he would have known what he knew now … maybe he wouldn't have returned to Gotham. Maybe, he sometimes thought bitterly, it had been a mistake to come back to Gotham. Maybe, he sometimes thought anxiously, it had been a mistake to bring Barbara to this city.

His little girl deserved so much better than this.

Oswald Cobblepot sat at his kitchen table near the window and stared outside and, in a way, he looked almost as if he belonged there. There was a small boy curled up on the couch behind Jim, clutching a plush doll and a small stuffed penguin. Under different circumstances, Jim would have found it funny that Oswald had given his son a plush penguin. He remembered a time when Oswald had despised this nickname. Understandably so. Barbara was already fast asleep in her room next to his as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As if they had not been ambushed by Oswald and Martin during their dinner. As if Jim had not quickly cooked up a canned soup for the gangster and his son to give them something to eat while everything inside of him had told him to call back up and finally bust Oswald’s little ass.

Nothing about this situation was right.

»How’s the leg?« Jim muttered as he turned away from the window over his kitchen sink and walked over to Oswald. It wasn't that late at night yet. Not even midnight but at least the kids were still in this precious age that they would fall asleep the moment it was ten minutes after their usual bedtime. Hell, poor little Martin had hardly been able to stay awake while eating his soup. He had been pretty much plastered to Oswald’s side until the mobster had convinced him to lay down on the sofa and catch some z’s. Needless to say, the little guy had passed out the moment his head had hit the sofa cushions and Jim had not even needed much convincing to get Barbara to go to bed. It was better if Barbara wouldn't hear anything that he and Oswald had to discuss. Better the mobster would have left his apartment before dawn.

»It was just a grazing shot.«

»It doesn’t look like a grazing shot to me.« It was dark inside the apartment except for the lamp next to the couch that cast a warm glow on the sleeping boy and the flickering light in his kitchenette. Curly brown hair and pale skin. A little he looked like a young Ed Nygma - or at least what Jim expected a young Edward would have looked like. »Come on. Let me have a look at that in the bathroom. I can't have a mobster bleeding out in my kitchen in the middle of the night. I mean, just imagine what my neighbors would have to say to that.«

Maybe the fact that Oswald was not arguing should worry him a little more but, for now, he was just relieved that the other man had not decided to start bickering with him in this situation. He, just like Jim, was probably worried that their arguing would wake up the kids. He looked exhausted as he rose from his seat at the table and slowly limped over to follow Jim to the bathroom. Oswald had dark circles underneath his eyes as he had when Jim had first met him all those years ago. His face was even paler than usually, almost a bit ashen even. He looked gaunt. He wondered if Oswald would make it to the bathroom on his own but was aware that Oswald would be highly insulted if he would offer his help.

Then again, Oswald had made it to his apartment on his own just fine. Which begged the question of why Oswald had decided to come here of all places.

The light in the bathroom was loud and angry as the two men entered the room. Oswald didn't need an invitation to sit down on the edge of the bathtub and groaned as he took a seat. The right leg of his pants was torn right above his knee. He tried not to think too much about the weirdness of all of this. Being clinical about all of this, seemed much easier as he closed the bathroom door behind them to shield them from curious eyes. At least he didn't need Oswald to pull down his pants as he felt that that would be overstepping some boundaries by a few miles.

He fetched his first aid kid despite the fact that he would probably not get very far with that anyway. It was good to busy his hands though while trying to pry answers from Oswald. It felt wrong that he had to kneel down in front of the other man to push up the pants leg over his knee, tearing a sharp hiss from Oswald’s throat as the fabric that was stuck to the skin got ripped away and reopened the clotted wound. His leg immediately started to bleed again but at least Jim had the satisfaction of knowing that he had been right and that it had not been a grazing shot.

»You are lucky.« He muttered as he grabbed a piece of cotton and dunked it in antiseptic to clean around the wound as carefully as a man like him was able to. »Just a little further down and your kneecap would have been shattered by the bullet. At least the bullet went through. Though you really should have gone to a hospital with that.«

»It's nothing. I had way worse in the past.« Jim actually believed him in this regard and yet it didn't change anything about the severity of his injury.

»I can't do much for you here. Not as much as a hospital would be able to do.«

»Oh please, Jim. I have a hole in my leg. It's not the first time and it won't be the last. Butch shot me in the leg once, it will heal just fine. If you would just patch me up and allow me to rest for a minute, Martin and I will be on our merry way in no time.«  

Oswald Cobblepot was not the type of person that tried to avoid causing trouble for others. He was an egotistical person. He was a narcissist. He didn't care if his presence somewhere caused troubles for other people around him - and it didn't need a detective of Jim’s caliber to understand that there was something deeper going on here. Hell, Oswald Cobblepot had arrived at his home with a bullet wound in his leg and his clearly distraught son! Of course, there was something deeper going on! If he wouldn't know any better, he would almost be tempted to say that Oswald, the terror of Gotham, the monster in his closet, was afraid of something.

»Okay, tell me.«

»What?«

»What happened? Why am I patching up a hole in your leg, to begin with, Oswald? And why, of all the places you could have come to, did you decide to get your ass here?«

»You have the nerve to ask me that…«

»What's that supposed to mean?«

»Your girlfriend!«

»My what now?«

»Sofia!« Oswald clarified and he knew that Oswald would have shrieked at him like a banshee if it wouldn't have been for the sleeping children in the apartment. »Remember? The woman you invited to Gotham to tear me down because you didn't like my licensing program?«

»I didn't invite her to Gotham!« Jim hissed. »But it's true that I went to her father for advice and help with you.«

»You went looking for a gangster, Jim, and that is exactly what you found!« Oswald stared daggers at him and they both knew that he was righteous in his anger. Jim had fucked up big time when he went to the Falcones for help just because his ego had been a little hurt, just because he had found himself unable to deal with the fact that Oswald’s licenses actually helped to clean up the city. »She took my boy from me four days ago and wanted to force me to give over my empire to her in exchange for my son! That’s what happened, James!«

»How do you even have a son?«

»Focus, Jim! Focus! Now is not the time to talk about my boy.« He was much more like a tiger mom than Jim would have expected. With this answer alone, Oswald had made it pretty clear to Jim just how protective he was about his little boy. »Now is the time when you will help me take care of the mess _you_ created!«

»What do you expect me to do?«

»As long as Sofia Falcone is alive, she will be a threat to this city.« But especially to his son. He didn't need to say it for Jim to know what he thought. It was the same thing that had occurred to Jim before as well. What if Sofia would decide to turn against him and threaten Barbara? Most people didn't know that Jim had his little niece with him. He didn't keep this a secret per se, but only a hand full of people actually knew about Barbara.

He had gone to great lengths to keep Barbara a secret from Sofia, though, and yet he was not of the illusion that she was actually oblivious to this information. Information was the currency of the mafia, after all.

»So where are you going next?«

»One of my safehouses. I would have gone there immediately, but your apartment was closer and I needed a place to _crash_ , as the kids say these days, for a minute.« They exchanged a small glance as Jim was wrapping his leg in gauze carefully. Oswald hadn't even flinched when he had poured the disinfectant over the wound. Oswald was a lot tougher than he sometimes looked but that was nothing new to Jim. Underneath his flamboyant looks and his perceived fragility, Oswald was a fighter, a soldier perhaps even.

 _Never leave your unit behind_.

»Listen.« He found himself sighing as he put away the first aid kit at last. He dragged both hands through his hair and over his face as he allowed the past few minutes and Oswald’s explanation to run through his head again. »Someone in your ranks might be on Sofia’s side and until we don't know this for sure, your safe houses are not safe for you and the kid.«

Oswald was smart enough to have realized this as well. Paranoia was Oswald’s very core these days and Jim knew that he was partly to blame for that as well. Oswald had never been a trusting guy but he had trusted in Jim and that Jim would always do the right thing and make the right decisions. Maybe he had made the wrong call one too many times. Nowadays, Oswald always expected people to betray him and perhaps rightfully so after so many had, in fact, betrayed him in the past.

»So what do you propose?«

»Obviously, you cannot stay here.« Jim sighed. »Already it's too dangerous to have you guys here. We don't know if you have been tailed by anyone, after all. You being here endangers not only me but Barbara as well.«

»I am truly sorry for involving you in this mess, James, but you have to admit that you are partly at fault yourself.«

Jim decided to not grace this with any kind of response. In a way Oswald was right and he knew this. It had been Jim who went out of his way to go to Don Falcone and it was Jim who had involuntarily started this whole mess. He could blame no one else but himself for that. »I will call Harvey and ask him if he has any idea where you can hide.«

The way Oswald pinched his lips into a thin line told Jim clearly about his dissatisfaction. Perhaps, the old Oswald would have argued against getting Harvey’s help. He was not a man who liked getting help from really anyone. Headstrong and prideful as Oswald had always been, he much rather wanted to get everything done himself. That Jim offered to help him and furthermore include Harvey’s help as well, offended him deeply. Maybe it was the fact that he was not alone anymore, maybe it was the fact that he had a little boy to look after, that actually kept him from voicing his disdain.

»If you must.« Oswald sneered at last as he carefully rose to his feet. »Just be aware that I would rather jump off a cliff than spending even a minute in Harvey Bullock’s rat-infested apartment. And you don’t want my death on your hands, do you?«

»I’ll try to keep that in mind.« He sighed as he left the bathroom to grab his phone. In the quiet of his bedroom, he called his partner.

※※※※※※※

Harvey and he had never gotten along. There was nothing new about that. No secret to keep. Harvey, even after all those years, still looked at him as the murderer of Fish Mooney, like the leech that had been stuck to her leg until he had been able to throw her under the proverbial bus. Even after she came back from the dead and died at Jim’s hands, in Harvey’s eyes he was still her killer. He was the one who had made everything crumble to pieces and fall down. He was the one who had destroyed the old order and brought chaos to Gotham - at least in Harvey’s mind and perhaps he was right in this regard too. Looking back on his life in the past four years, it was kind of hard not to see it this way. Not that he would have any qualms about being the destroyer of the old order.

It had been time for a new day’s dawn.

There were many things he regretted, looking back. One of the very few things he did not regret, however, was the boy resting on Jim Gordon’s ugly grey sofa at the moment. Not in his wildest dreams would he have thought that he would one day be a father and yet here he was. He could tell by the way Bullock and Jim - especially Jim - looked at him, that they were curious about what had led to him being a father in the first place.

He wouldn't satisfy their curiosity tonight. There were more important things to take care of.

»I hate to break it to you, Pal, but the chances that Sofia already knows or suspects that Oswald is here, are pretty high.« Oswald bit back the snarky comment on his tongue. Who would have thought that Harvey Bullock, for once, would actually use his brain?

»What are you saying?«

»I’m saying that you might be in just as much danger as our feathery friend and his chick over here. Lucky for you guys, I know just the place where you could hide.«

»I am not hiding from Sofia Falcone!« Harvey rolled his eyes at his words. »I just need a place to adjust to the situation and get into contact with my remaining men. Sofia has the capos on her side now. She dared to go against the king and for those disloyal bastards, it certainly looks like she has been successful in her coup of overthrowing me. I cannot allow this. But, I admit, that I am in not the best position to actually go against her right now. I need a little time to rebuild my troops and formulate a plan of attack.«

He thought back to the day at the hospital where Jim Gordon had handcuffed him and Butch to a radiator. He thought about what Don Falcone had told Jim and couldn't quite deny that he sounded just like the old man had sounded back then. Unlike the old man, however, Oswald was not going to retire just yet. Sofia would not take everything from him that he had worked so hard to achieve. She wasn't the first one who tried to destroy him and she wouldn't be the last one but Oswald would survive her as he had survived the others.

»The house is outside of town.« Harvey continued without gracing Oswald’s words with a response. »It should be safe. No one knows about it and if we are quick, we have a good chance that Sofia will not find out that I was involved too. I even took a different car than I usually would to make it harder for her spies. Now we just have to get you four ready and packed in that car.«

»Us four?« Jim echoed.

»You and Barbara are going with, Jim.« Harvey sighed. »As much as I hate to send you into exile with this guy, it's to keep Barbara safe.«

Jim and he only exchanged a small glance at those words. Even though Oswald had come to this apartment in his hour of need, he was not exactly looking forward to spending more time than strictly necessary with the detective. Long gone were the days when he had looked at him with puppy eyes or envisioned Jim smiling an honest smile at him instead of recoiling in disgust whenever they would meet. There had been a time - another life, perhaps - when he had been completely smitten by the good looking detective and every time they had met, Jim had sent Oswald for a tailspin.

Getting his heart broken over and over again, helped to gain a certain sense of perspective about those things, however.

These days they met on a more even playing field. No more favors being exchanged. No more nagging desire to capture those lips or drown in those blue eyes of James Worthington Gordon. He knew how little Jim thought of him now. He knew that he would rather chop off his own hand before touching Oswald. Love, at least the romantic kind of love, was not for him and certainly not with James Gordon. He had had his chance and he had blown it. He had learned his lesson and for that, at least, he had to thank Edward.

»I don't think that will be necessary, Harv-«

»It is.« Oswald cut Jim off before he could continue talking. »As much as I hate to agree with Bullock, it is necessary, James. Sofia is ruthless. If she even has the tiniest inkling that you might have helped me or know where I might be, your little girl is in danger. She will not hesitate to use your daughter against you.«

It was true, meeting Jim at Martin’s school and seeing him with the little girl Martin had talked about so much these past weeks, had been a surprise. Oswald had always prided himself on the fact that he was a master in gaining and collecting information other people might find useless. This information, however, had escaped him as it seemed. He hadn't known that Jim had at last fathered a child - and way before he had done so with Lee Thompkins as well. He wouldn't be embarrassed to admit that he had wondered about it and came up with all kinds of different scenarios in the past week or so. The most likely scenario, he had come to conclude, was that Jim had had a fling with someone during his time in the army and before he came to Gotham.

Barbara was seven years old, according to Martin and Jim came to Gotham four years ago. So, Barbara had been around the age of three when her father moved to Gotham. How long she was with him, Oswald wasn't able to determine. It was odd, of course, that his daughter wore the same name as his ex-fiance but that was probably just one of fate’s cruel jokes. The little girl hadn't been with Jim when Jim had still been with Barbara Kean at least. The way they had behaved around each other on that fateful day at Martin’s school had told Oswald that Barbara was living with her father for a little while longer than just a year, though.

Perhaps he hadn't even known about his darling daughter before. Perhaps that woman he had fathered her with had withheld the information from him until something had happened that had forced her to reveal his parentage. Oh, what cruel twist of fate. Her mother was probably dead. He just couldn't envision James Gordon as a weekend dad and the number of toys lying around and the lack of order in Jim’s apartment spoke clearly of the fact that the little girl lived here permanently.

»She isn’t-« Jim began but cut himself off quickly before he directed his eyes at Oswald. A few years ago, he would have drowned in this look Jim shot him. »She is my niece.«

Well, there went all his speculations down the drain, apparently. At least, he thought a little while later when they were all inside Harvey’s borrowed van, Oswald’s words had done the trick. Jim was too concerned about his little niece, too worried something might happen to her than to risk anything. At last, some sanity in this man.

Bullock had been smart in parking the car not directly in front of the apartment building. They had snuck out in the darkest hours of the night through the backdoor of the building, through the basement where people would wash their clothes and hung them from fimble clothing lines through the large room. Huddled in dark clothes against the night, they had hurried a bit further down the street behind the apartment building until they had found the van. Oswald sat in the backseat with Martin huddled close against him.

His boy was strong and not easy to be scared but he could feel that he was scared now. As for Jim and Barbara, they had taken the barest minimum of necessities for them and their surprise guests. As Jim sat in the front, Barbara was in the backseat with Oswald and Martin. She seemed calm but her inquisitive eyes never left Oswald. Even though he now knew that she wasn’t Jim’s daughter, she had much of her uncle. He could see the same curiosity in her blue eyes and-

»You look funny.«

»Pardon?« For a second he wasn't sure if he had heard the little girl right.

»You look funny. Like a bird.« He heard the stifled snort from the front but chose to ignore it. Just as he was ignoring his sudden urge to strangle Barbara. She was a Gordon through and through. Already she was setting out to annoy him apparently. Oh, wouldn't she grow up to be the bane of his existence!

»Why thank you.«

»Your hair is so pointy.« She grinned widely. She was missing a tooth. Probably lost it only a few days ago. »It's so pretty!«

Well, that was something he could live with. At least one Gordon who thought his hair was pretty. »I think that your hair is very pretty too.«

Her grin became even wider if that was possible at all. Oswald had never been much of a fan in terms of children. He had never desired to have children of his own, something to outlive him and continue his legacy. The desire had only once shortly raised its ugly head when he had met his father, right after Arkham. This other, nicer, better, more innocent Oswald had liked the idea of having a child to continue the van Dahl legacy. The real Oswald, however, knew how pointless something like this was. Martin … Well, he had been sort of a happy accident. He pulled his little boy a little closer at this thought before Martin pulled at his sleeve to get his attention.

»Does your leg still hurt?« The boy signed with his fingers. He was so quick that Oswald sometimes had a hard time following. He was getting better at it though. When it meant understanding his son, he was all too willing to put in the extra effort to learn.

»No.« He replied with a soft shake of his head. It was a lie, of course. His leg hurt like a bitch but neither that nor the presence of the two cops in the front kept Oswald from pressing a short kiss to Martin’s curls. »I’m fine, little bird.« He muttered and yet the look Jim shot him did not escape him. He had to think him one big monster if he was really that surprised that Oswald as actually behaving decently around his kid.

»Where are we even going?« Barbara chirped. She was still in her blue and white striped pajamas, only with her winter boots and her coat to keep her warm. Jim had packed as many articles of clothes for them both as he could fit into a duffel. Some of the clothes Martin would be able to wear as well and some of Jim’s sweatshirts Oswald could wear - even though he didn't want to be seen dead in those.

There had been a time when he would have fantasized about wearing Jim’s army sweatshirt or that ACDC shirt he had seen him wear once.

»Surprise vacation, Sweetheart!« Harvey chirped from the driver’s seat. »You see, I decided that your uncle is in dire need of a vacation. You know better than anyone that he needs a break, right, Darling?«

»True.« She replied with a solemn face. »But why are Martin and his daddy here?«

He could see Harvey cringe through the rearview mirror as Barbara referred to Oswald this way. This only prompted a smug grin from Oswald. »We were concerned that you might get bored all alone with your uncle Jim. And our dear friend Oswald can use some time off too. He is under a lot of stress lately.«

»So cool!« Barbara grinned. »Are we going to the mountains? I bet there will be snow!«

»I bet so too, Darling!«

Oswald wanted to protest. He couldn't afford to leave Gotham just now at this critical point in all of this. He needed to stay in Gotham and take action against Sofia and yet he knew that, would he stay, he would be dead within days. He needed her to get comfortable in her new role and take care of Martin first and foremost. Perhaps he would be able to reactivate his other contacts from wherever they would be going, set up a base and start from there.

Gabe.

He needed Gabe. The old dog was still loyal to him and he knew more than enough other guys who were still loyal to Oswald. Butch, he thought. Perhaps Gabe would be able to convince Butch to actually come to his help again. Perhaps they could move on from the whole Tabitha Galavan mess. He knew he was owing Butch an apology for what Ed had done after the election. He should have seen it sooner what a snake this man was. He had forced Butch out of all of this and Oswald had not even seen it. _Nay_ , he had allowed it.

They arrived at their destination as the sun was already starting to rise on the horizon. Martin and Barbara had fallen asleep on the backseat a long time ago and so had his legs. As it was time to climb out of the car, Oswald felt like his legs would fall off. He did his best not to wake up Martin as he slowly climbed out of the car and untangled his limbs only to pick up his little boy soon after.

They were surrounded by nothing but thick forest and snow. Sometime during their drive out into the mountains, it had started to snow but out here, the ground was already covered in a thick enough blanket so that the kids would be able to actually built a bunch of snowmen and have plenty of fun with it. The cold was biting into his skin and muscles and bones. He could only hope that the snow wouldn't get any worse. The cabin that was safely nestled against the mountainside a little off from the end of the road, looked small and comfy and reminded him of the time when he had first sought out Victor Fries. There was a landline connecting to the cabin and a generator on the north side of the small house. At least they would have electricity and a telephone connection.

Oswald chose to ignore the strangeness of the situation as Jim and he both carried a sleeping child into the house, following Harvey Bullock. He was sure that, would the circumstances not be so dire, it would actually be funny to him that he found himself in the middle of nowhere with James Gordon. Another fantasy of his that he had buried a long time ago. Well, then again, this fantasy had never quite included two little kids as well.

»I’m afraid that there is only one bedroom with a bed.« Harvey muttered as he entered the cabin and switched on the light inside. A layer of dust lay over the furniture and Oswald noticed the cobwebs in the corner above the door. It had been ages since the last time someone had used this cabin for anything. In the far corner of the front room which was simultaneously living room and dining area, he could spot a pair of forgotten skies and a snowboard. »It was my old partner’s and he was quite the loner. But the couch is a sleeper couch.«

It didn't escape Oswald - and he was certain Jim noticed it too - that Harvey seemed to enjoy the thought of Oswald and Jim having to bunk together on a sofa or the bed if neither one of them would prefer to share a bed with their respective kid.

»Thank you, Harvey.« Jim muttered. »I think we’ll manage somehow.«

»As soon as we cleaned up this place.« Oswald interjected sharply. »I will not expose my son to all this dust and dirt and risk him getting asthma.«

Maybe he sounded just a little more like his late mother than he had aimed for.

 

**-End of Chapter 4-**


	5. Chapter 5

Oswald Cobblepot was not the human equivalent of a viral throat infection. He was not the terror of Gotham. Oswald Cobblepot was a god-damned plague. He was like herpes. Once caught, it would never go away. He was a sneeze stuck in his nose. If Jim Gordon had made the mistake of thinking that Oswald was bad before, oh boy was he in for a treat now that they were stuck together in the middle of nowhere.

He should have expected Oswald to be a control freak. Maybe he should have even expected that Oswald was a dictator when it came to order and cleaning. _Nay_ , a terrorist. That seemed the more appropriate term to refer to Oswald as he was shooing him around to clean up their temporary hideout as if he was planning on actually moving into this cabin forever.

He should have taken Oswald more seriously when he had first bitched about the state of the cabin. Instead, he had put Barbara to bed and thought that he would finally get all the answers from Oswald now that the children were out of the way. Oh, how wrong he had been!

»Jesus … What happened here? I was gone for like three hours.«

»Oswald found the cleaning supplies.«

»Are you fucking with me?« Harvey muttered with the grocery bags still clutched tightly to his chest and fresh snow still on his head and shoulders.

»Not at all, no.« To say that they would be able to eat straight from the ground now was an understatement.

»He is aware that you guys will probably only stay for a few days, right?«

»I think he might have decided that this is his property now.«

After putting Martin on the bed in the backroom with Barbara, Oswald had gone straight into the action of cleaning this place up. Jim hadn't even had the chance to talk to him about anything that happened. The king of Gotham had set to work and ignored Jim except for the orders he had barked at him. Strangely enough, Jim had felt compelled to follow those orders. Looking back on it now, he couldn't even quite fathom why he had done so. Of course, Oswald was quite convincing. He had practice in ordering other people around.

 _Problems with following orders. Disrespect for authorities._ That was what was written in his personnel file at the GCPD. Usually, it was his modus operandi to always argue against orders - especially those that were barked at him through gritted teeth by some lowlife mobster with a limp. And yet, he had cleaned up the cobwebs that Oswald hadn't been able to reach with the broom Oswald had provided him with.

Perhaps he had just tried to avoid the inevitable fight with Oswald. That was at least what he told himself. As long as those kids were asleep in the next room, he didn't want to provoke one of Oswald’s famed pterodactyl screeching fits. Regardless of the situation, they were stuck in together right now, Oswald seemed incredibly calm. Calmer than he had any right to be. It was frankly a little unnerving.

»Shouldn't he be resting?« Harvey huffed as they watched Oswald scrub the kitchen cabinets. »I mean didn't you tell me he was shot in the leg?«

»Try telling _him_ that.« He scoffed. »When I told him to sit down and let me handle it, I thought he would bite my head off.«

»I can hear you, you know?« He didn't even look over his shoulder at Jim and his partner as he said this. »Unlike the good men and women of our beloved GCPD, I am a man of action, Captain Bullock. My brain needs stimulation and I can’t stand inaction.«

Before Harvey could say anything else, however, the door to the bedroom opened and revealed the curly head of Martin Cobblepot. The little boy had a small plush doll tightly pressed against his chest as he slowly emerged from the room. He seemed uncertain of the situation as he saw the two cops at the front door but then he steeled himself as he took a few steps into the main room and quickly hurried on naked feet over to Oswald.

The little boy wore a deep frown on his face as he walked over to his father and unceremoniously pulled on his sleeve to get his attention. Jim had already noticed that the little boy wasn't talking. Whether it was because he wasn't able to or because he chose not to, Jim didn't know. Oswald, however, didn't need many words to deal with his boy as it seemed. He looked down on him instead of continuing to clean and allowed the little boy what he would never allow anyone else and that was to pull him away from the task at hand and to the sofa.

Jim and Harvey bore witness as the boy forced Oswald to sit down on the worn-out sofa and put the doll in his lap before he went over to Harvey and snatched the newspaper that the older cop held in the crook of his elbow to return to his father and flop down next to him.

»Now I have seen everything.« Harvey muttered as they finally walked over to the kitchenette and placed the grocery bags on the table. It was truly amazing how the little boy forced his father to actually sit down and nurse his injury instead of running around.

»You look at me as if I have grown a second head.« Oswald much later confronted Jim over the clattering of the dishes. Harvey had left shortly after he had brought them the groceries. He had a job to do, after all, and a facade to uphold.

»I am just surprised.« Jim chuckled. The kids were already outside but he knew that it would only take minutes until Barbara would grow restless and demand them to join them in the snow.

»About what?«

»Your boy … you.«

»You mean how I behave around my boy.«

»Yes.«

»I am not a monster, you know?« Oswald scoffed as he gave Jim the last plate to dry and instead walked over to one of the wooden chairs to sit down heavily. The way he stretched his right leg told Jim more than enough that he was in pain but wouldn't say anything. He was Oswald Cobblepot, after all, the most stubborn bastard in all of Gotham. He would probably still be running around if he had been shot in the gut. A part of him admired Oswald resilience. He never whined about his injuries. He whined about a lot of other things, mostly related to his work, but never his injuries or the pain he might be in.

For such a small and sometimes frail-looking man, Oswald had a high tolerance for pain. To this day Jim remembered vividly how he had pushed Oswald along the pier four years ago, his leg freshly shattered and yet he had walked onwards and somehow even survived being pushed into the cold river.

»Never said you were.«

»Oh please, Jim.« If there was a vocal equivalent to an eye-roll it were exactly those words. »You and I both know that this is not true. Please don't mistake me for Captain Bullock. I’m afraid your little white lies fall on deaf ears here. I know you, James Gordon. And I can handle the truth. I’m a big boy.«

He had to swallow the remark that he could already taste on his tongue. They both very much knew that, no, Oswald could not handle the truth and that he was not, in fact, a _big boy_ like he said he was. However, before he could say anything of that sort, the door of the cabin opened and Barbara poked her head inside. Her cheeks were flushed red from exhaustion and there was a bit of snow in her hair.

»Are you guys coming or not?« She frowned. »We wanna build snowmen!«

It was his first instinct to tell the little girl that Oswald had to stay inside, and preferably seated, but before he could, Oswald had already walked past him to fetch his coat from the fimble coat rag near the door. It was only a matter of time until this construction would break down completely. He watched how Oswald put on his coat, scarf, and gloves before the other man turned to Jim. »Well, _are_ you coming, Slowpoke?«

Not even twenty-four hours yet, and already Oswald was grading on his nerves. Instead of attacking the other man, however, Jim mustered a crooked grin and grabbed his jacket from the backrest of his chair.

Outside the wind was cuttingly cold and told of more snow to come. He could just hope that they would be back in Gotham before the first annual blizzard would put the city to a standstill. He very much wanted to be home and not just because of Oswald’s company up here in the middle of nowhere but to help Harvey deal with the whole Sofia Falcone situation. She was probably already searching for Jim in some fashion. They had agreed that Harvey would tell her, if she was going to ask him, that Jim was taking a few days off to visit his mother over the holidays after the stress of the past few months. She wouldn't believe him, of course, but Harvey had brought them enough supplies to last them for at least two weeks so that he wouldn't need to risk coming up here and have Sofia follow him.

As soon as the heat would have died down, Jim would be back in the city and trying to get the information he needed to put her behind bars forever. Starting at her father’s assassination. By now, he was certain that this had been her doing. He only needed to prove it now.

»Jim, would you finally stop daydreaming and actually help?« Sometimes Jim was certain that Oswald desired nothing more than to annoy him. That voice, his choice of words … He thought about the good old times and how Oswald used to look at him like a lovestruck puppy whenever they had met. Whenever did this change anyway? After Arkham? After Nygma? And why did he care? He should be happy that he was released from Oswald’s affections.

With a sigh, he finally went over to Oswald who was already working with his son to form the lower half of the first snowman. It was quite fascinating to watch Oswald with his son, actually. While Oswald would talk, the little boy would communicate with his hands and Oswald didn't seem to have any trouble at all to understand him. Of course, the mobster was an intelligent man and he had always known this too. It was still a surprise, though. Seeing Oswald Cobblepot actually caring for another human being was strange.

It was hard to act like everything was normal around Barbara and it was a little unfair as well, after all, she was the only one who didn't know the truth about their situation. Barbara was a smart girl and even though Harvey had told her that they were on a surprise vacation, she probably knew that something was afoot.

As Jim actually got to work and helped his little girl to roll the bottom of their snowman, Barbara didn't seem to be bothered though. _Of course not_ , a bitter voice in his head told him, _she trusts you_.

After taking Barbara in, that realization had always been the hardest to accept. Barbara trusted him with all her heart and that was, quite frankly, a terrifying thought. He was a man married to his work, a man who couldn't hold down any kind of long term relationship other than to his work or his best friend Harvey. He was always the first to jump head first into dangerous situations. And yet Barbara trusted her stupid uncle to always return home safely to her and to keep her safe too. And now, though they had fun in the snow together, the threat of Sofia Falcone was looming over their heads and Barbara didn't even know in what kind of danger she was thanks to her uncle and his decision to help Oswald.

He should have arrested Oswald on the spot as he appeared on his doorstep  - as he should have done so many times before. The truth of the matter was, if he would be doing his job properly, Oswald Cobblepot would serve a life sentence in Blackgate instead of building a snowman with his son out here in the middle of nowhere.

»Careful, Martin.« Oswald chuckled as he helped the boy to erect their creation. After they put the head onto their snowman, Martin started to gesticulate at Oswald and drew a small laugh from the mobster. »It doesn't matter that their snowman is bigger, little bird. Not the height or stature of a man is of importance, but the way he holds and presents himself. A proper gentleman might be smaller in stature and yet that doesn't change anything about him being a gentleman. And our snowman is indeed a dapper fellow.«  

Jim was certain that he was hallucinating again as he witnessed how Oswald took off his expensive looking cashmere scarf to put it around the snowman’s neck. That thing certainly cost a fortune but Oswald didn't even bat a lash. In the end, the Cobblepot snowman indeed looked like a gentleman. It was afternoon by the time they were finally done. Martin and Oswald had spent a bit of time crafting a fashionable top hat out of the newspaper that Harvey brought them this morning, completely ignoring that Jim had not yet time to read it. Oswald had even helped Barbara to craft a bow for her snowman and searching for black pebbles to give her snowman a nice pearl necklace so that _she_ would be a proper young lady.

It was amazing how easy it seemed for Oswald to deal with those two children.

»You like Oswald, huh?« Jim later asked his little girl as he could hear Oswald and Martin in the bathroom. After everything this little boy had gone through, Oswald had decided a proper bath was necessary and Jim didn't want to impose on their time alone in the bathroom. He didn't know what happened to Martin or how long he had been separated from his father in the end, but he could only assume that it was the first time that they had actually a moment of time to spend together since Sofia had taken him.

»He’s nice!« Barbara chirped with glowing blue eyes as she snuggled closer to Jim. He had already helped her into her pajamas and sat her on her bed. She would continue to share a bed with Martin. The single bed in the back room was much too small for Jim anyway. »And pretty!«

Pretty certainly wasn't a word he would use to describe Cobblepot. To each their own, he thought. As long as Barbara would not develop a crush on the mobster, he wouldn't stop her from finding him pretty.

»You never told me about him, though, Uncle Jimmy.« Barbara then frowned and for the longest moment in history, Jim actually fought with himself what he wanted to tell his little girl. She knew about the Penguin, had heard his name on the news and coming out of Jim’s mouth in disgust and anger. However, she didn't know that the father of her friend Martin was that person, that gangster and notorious criminal so many people were afraid of. Perhaps it would be better if it would stay this way until they were back home.

»Oh, we are old friends.« Jim sighed, the joke escaping his niece though Oswald would have certainly picked up on it would he be in the room just now. »We know each other for a long time - through work, mainly. I was surprised that he has a son, though. I never knew.«

»Martin is adopted.« Barbara replied calmly. Of course, he knew as much by now. »But he says that he loves his dad very much and that his dad would do anything for him.«

Jim believed her. He knew what Oswald Cobblepot was capable of doing and he knew that he would very well kill for his son. He would have killed Sofia already if she hadn't had the upper hand in this whole ordeal with Martin. Heck, he would kill Jim if he thought he was trying to poison his son with his cooking skills.

»You know what? I believe that too. But let me tell you something, Pumpkin. I would do anything for you too. You know why?«

»Because you love me.«

»To the moon and back.«

※※※※※※※

The sleeping arrangements were not ideal but Oswald didn't expect to get much sleep anyway. He had too much on his plate at the moment, too much at the forefront of his mind to actually care if he would find rest tonight or not.

The kids slept in the bedroom in the only proper bed and he was okay with that despite the fact that he usually looked into every new friend his son made very thoroughly. He couldn't have his baby boy just befriend anyone and have him being dragged down by some mediocre little boy or girl that came his way. His son was meant for greatness, after all. As his mother had seen this in him, so could Oswald see it in Martin. There had been this connection between him and his darling boy right from the start. Well, great minds think alike, he assumed.

Then again, wasn't it just so perfect that his boy had befriended Jim’s little girl of all people?

The kids were already fast asleep as Oswald retired on the couch for a moment. Outside their snow lady and snow gentleman stood guard over the cabin in the middle of nowhere and Jim Gordon was currently setting up a questionable looking camp bed on the floor right in front of the fireplace with the few spare blankets and pillows that they had found earlier in one of the cupboards.

»I didn't know that you had a little girl.« Oswald found himself remarking as Jim rose back to his feet and looked proudly down at his work. It didn't look comfortable at all but at least Jim had already decided that Oswald would take the couch. He was injured after all.

Oh, Jim Gordon, ever the valiant white knight. Wasn't he just precious?

»Until last week, I mean.«

»She’s my brother's kid.« Jim sighed and sat down on the armchair for a moment. It was much too early to go to sleep for the both of them just yet even as Oswald felt exhaustion creeping in on him. »Roger died four years ago, not long after I came to Gotham. In his great wisdom, he decided that he wanted me to take care of her. I still believe that he decided that because he wanted to see me fail from the afterlife.«

»You don't seem to have failed. Barbara is a lovely little girl.« His response came out much quicker than he had intended to. There was this certain flicker of pride in Jim’s eyes that he didn't know he had missed as much as he certainly had. How wonderfully odd.

»In her defense, she does make it easy for me.« Jim smirked. »She is bright and very well behaved. She helps me more than she realizes. Sometimes I feel like she is raising me and not the other way around.«

Oh, that impish look on his face! How would anyone be able to resist that look?

Jim Gordon would sooner or later be the death of him with looks like these. »I know what you mean.« He admitted. »Martin is … Well, I would have never thought that raising a child could be this easy.«

»Your doing a good job by what I can tell. The boy adores you.« A compliment from Jim Gordon? And about his parenting skills no less! Maybe he had died and gone to heaven at last.

»You really think so? Sometimes I am not sure how he feels about me.« He shrugged his shoulders. »I am lucky to have him. Martin is a wonderful little boy. Raising him isn't much work at all, actually. And he … I feel like he grounds me in a way. He keeps me sane and because of him, I am forced to keep my cool more often than not. I know - unbelievable.«

»So … What's the story?« He had always known that the question was bound to come. Of course, Jim would sooner or later ask him how he had gotten Martin and he didn't blame him for asking, of course. Just as he had been curious about Barbara and Jim, Jim had just as much of a right to be curious about him and Martin, right? »I mean don't get me wrong but you can imagine my surprise when I first saw you with Martin. In all honesty, I thought you were kidnapping the boy.«

Of course, that would be what he would think. He was James Gordon, after all. His words still promoted a small laugh from Oswald in return.

»I adopted him when I was mayor.« Oswald replied. »I was there when his orphanage got reopened and met him then.«

The way Jim looked at him told him that the detective already knew that this was not the whole entire story. Of course, it was more complicated than this and Oswald was in no mood to actually answer further questions pertaining to how he came to the decision of adopting Martin.

»I apologize in advance but you never struck me as a man who desperately wanted children.« Jim muttered. »So how … I mean … why?«

»I’m afraid that's none of your business, James.« He cut him off quickly. »And I am quite tired now.«

Jim didn't seem happy with this kind of answer and he couldn't blame him for that. He was a detective. It was his job to find out all the secrets and get all the answers, wasn't it? He lived for this kind of thing. He was desperate for answers at all times. The matter of Martin, however, was one he didn't wish to discuss right now and as Jim opened his mouth again, he quickly shut him up in raising his hand.

»Please, James. I understand your desire for answers but please respect that I cannot and will not talk about it now. There is … too much baggage attached.« Too much pain but that was something he wouldn't tell Jim. Maybe under different circumstances, maybe in a different lifetime, he would have told him everything. But after all those betrayals and the heartbreak between them? No. How could he? Wasn't James Gordon the man who had left him to rot in Arkham Asylum for a murder that James had committed himself?

Maybe he should let this old story go already but the truth was that Arkham was still haunting his nightmares.

Jim opened his mouth again but then he shut it and nodded silently. »Alright.« He sighed and stood from his seat on the armchair to slowly lower himself onto the ground and his makeshift bed again. Oswald too slowly pushed his shoes off and laid down on the sofabed. He pulled the moth-bitten blanket over his body and pulled it up to his chin to find some semblance of comfort now. The situation was strange and uncomfortable. Last time he had slept in the same room as another man was when Edward had nursed him back to health.

He remembered sleeping in his comfortable old bed, listening to Ed’s deep breathing from the sofa only a few feet away from the bed, the flickering green light from the neon sign outside his windows bathing the apartment in a soft green hue. He missed waking up to the smell of Ed cooking him breakfast. He missed waking up to Edward treating his injuries and fever with concern etched into his face. He missed those peaceful days at this crappy apartment. He missed singing with him over take out dinner. He missed Edward.

Now, in the middle of nowhere on a worn out sleeper sofa and with James Gordon on the ground, was certainly not the time to think about Edward Nygma, though. It was a name he had buried deep inside of himself, a name that must not be spoken around him and every one of his staff knew this too.

The howling and whistling of the wind outside the cabin were slowly lulling him to sleep and even before he opened his eyes the next morning, Oswald knew that the first major snowfalls of Gotham had finally fallen upon them.

Oswald awoke so the shrill squeal of excitement of a little girl and the following groan of a man. When he opened his eyes, his gaze fell upon the window next to the cabin door right away. The groan of the man on the ground was matched by one of his own as all he could see was white.

 

**-End of Chapter 5-**


	6. Chapter 6

They were completely snowed in, to the point where they couldn't even open the cabin door against the masses of snow outside. They should have expected this, Jim thought as he blankly stared out of the window.

»You are aware that the snow won’t melt from you staring at it, are you not?«

He granted Oswald only so much as a scowl as he turned around and was, in turn, rewarded with that Cheshire grin of his that never failed to remind Jim of easier and long-forgotten days. He looked younger now after waking up with tousled hair and he couldn't deny that seeing Oswald in one of his sweatshirts did something to him that he could not yet name.

His expensive suit was still hanging over the towel rail in the bathroom after they had been playing in the snow for so long yesterday and so, Jim had offered some of his clothes to the gangster. The least he could use now would be a mobster dying of hypothermia in the middle of nowhere. It just wouldn't be a good look for him and Jim didn't care to explain Oswald’s demise like this either. Not to mention that Oswald had not nearly enough meat on those bones that he would serve as a suitable meal if the situation would become this dire.

A long time ago, Jim would have thought that Gotham would be better off without Oswald Cobblepot. He knew better now. Regardless of all the flaws of this man, he was the best leader the underworld had ever had and had Jim not been so foolishly proud, he could have accepted this and worked with him instead of manipulating the situation and get Sofia involved.

»A man can dream.« Jim huffed as he sat down at the table with the rest of the group. His seat was opposite of Oswald’s and he thought that he had never quite thought about the fact that even someone like Oswald Cobblepot needed proper food. He had almost been convinced that he would survive on the blood of the innocent and sleep hanging upside down from the ceiling. That was what penguins did, right? He was not exactly wolfing down his scrambled eggs now but he wouldn't have expected him to either. At least he was eating and, as Jim took a bite, he needed to admit that Oswald was already the much better cook.

He noticed the doll in Martin’s arm. His stuffed penguin was watching over them from the sofa. The doll looked self-made but certainly not in a bad way. It was made out of soft looking fabric like from old t-shirts and resembled very much the man sitting across from Jim at the table. »The doll is pretty.« He commented quietly and nodded in Martin’s direction who suddenly perked up at the praise and started grinning.

»He made it himself.« Oswald explained with a soft smile. He looked at least ten years younger like this. The hard edges of his face suddenly soft and pliable. »He started making those dolls a year ago and has a small army of them at home. He makes them in the image of the people around him so I bet that you soon will have a small doppelganger too, old friend.«

Voodoo dolls, was the first thing that came to mind for Jim. The detective inside of him wondered if this was some kind of coping mechanism for the little boy. After all, what did he really know about him? He had been stuck in an orphanage and if it was true what Oswald told him, Martin had been four years old when Oswald first adopted him. Plenty of time for anyone else to traumatize this little guy before that.

»Let me guess, you taught him how to sew didn't you?«

»A fine gentleman should always be prepared, James, and knowing how to sew is just part of that. How else would he ever be able to take care of a loose button himself?« He scoffed and the way he eyed Jim now was more than enough of a message directed at him. »That was one of the first things my mother taught me as a young lad myself. That and basic cooking skills.« Again Oswald’s words were like little needles poking his skin. He knew damn well where to aim.

»I can imagine she did.« He replied quietly and prayed to God that Oswald would not find insult in his words. Judging by the way he quirked his left eyebrow, he didn't.

»Didn't your mother teach you those skills?«

»My mother was not very involved.« He huffed his response and shoveled more eggs into his mouth. Barbara was quick to come to his defense.

»Grandma is mean.« She translated what Jim had said before as she looked at Oswald. »She’s always yelling and using napkins and I’m not allowed to play when we visit her. She always thinks her furniture could get dirty! Grandma is no fun!«

»When I was little, my mother used to have plastic covering on our sofa.« Jim explained with a small roll of his eyes and that actually prompted a laugh from Oswald.

»That was a luxury my mother and I didn't have.« He then chuckled. »I think if she would have had the money, she would have bought those plastic sheets as well. Then again, I didn't play much outside and didn't bring much dirt into the apartment.«

He could actually see that. Oswald didn't strike him as the kind of youngster who went out to play on the playground. He probably didn't have many friends growing up - if at all. Surely, he had felt much more comfortable in the safety of his house with a good book or old movie. Which explained his way of talking. He had probably grown up surrounded by Voltaire, Lovecraft, Poe, Goethe, and Schiller. Well, he had seen his mother once and Gertrud Kapelput had looked like she was stuck in the Victorian era.

He could very much imagine Oswald’s upbringing after first meeting his mother. It was hard not to imagine little Oswald in knee-high socks and shiny shoes, suspenders and nice shorts. He was, admittedly, very glad that Oswald allowed his baby boy to wear proper clothes and not forced him into weird outdated little suits.

That he had taught him how to sew, Jim actually found a little endearing. He could not quite imagine the Oswald Cobblepot sitting down patiently with his son to teach him how to make those little dolls.

»Can you teach me too?« Barbara chirped from her seat with big eyes again.

»Sure. We have all the time in the world.«

On that, at the very least, they could agree. Out here in the middle of nowhere, time was all they had. Especially now that they couldn't even walk out that door. At least Uncle Harvey had brought them not only groceries but boardgames and a sewing kit as well. _Just in case_ , he had said with a wink. In case he and Oswald would rip each other's throats out? Possibly. Well, the fear was not that far-fetched, he assumed.

Jim had to admit that it was not nearly as awful as he would have thought it would be, later, as they sat all together on the sofa and, in Jim’s case, the armchair. They had found some old clothes that would be of more use as cleaning cloths than clothing items in one of the cupboards and while Oswald was slowly teaching Barbara, Martin was already crafting a new doll, glancing at Jim again and again as he did.

Apparently, Martin was already delivering on Oswald’s promise that he would soon get a counterfeit in doll-form. As for himself, Jim finally found the time to actually read a book and didn't even quite know when he last had the time to do so. It was … peaceful. Oddly enough. Then again, Jim was aware that it was only a matter of time until he and Oswald would be at odds again and then he would yearn for peace between them.

He could almost feel the impending argument sizzle in the air around him like the electricity in the air right before a storm.

※※※※※※※

He was in jail. Again. While Jim found himself in turmoil, the children - and Oswald - were highly delighted. Barbara squealed with laughter as Jim placed his little pawn in jail with a scowl etched onto his face. As soon as he would get home and when everything was over, he would give Harvey a good ass-whooping for bringing them boardgames. Well, of course, having board games was always better than having bored kids around but still … Almost everything was better than playing monopoly with Oswald Cobblepot who was, by this point, already filthy rich in the game.

»Well, well, James. Looks like you are in trouble again.« Oswald purred. »What a shame. If you only had a friend who could lend you a helping hand? Do you need a favor?«

It was a joke only the two of them shared as their eyes met over their crappy little board game. They were caught in a stand-off again, both ready to draw their proverbial guns and shoot the other. They were back at square one, back at Oswald’s first nightclub standing at his bar going toe to toe and their kids didn't assume a thing.

»I wouldn't be in trouble if someone would play fairly.«

The offense Oswald took had been expected. As was the gasp. »James Gordon I assure you that I always play fair!«

The snort that escaped Jim seemed to anger Oswald truly for once. »I hope I live to see the day when your words are actually true, Cobblepot.«

»Oh, please, Jim!« The way he popped the ‘p’ already told Jim of the upcoming storm and once more reminded him of long-forgotten days. This was the same snarky, sarcastic Oswald Cobblepot he knew a long time ago and, in a way, it was nice to see that his time in Arkham and everything that happened after that, had not destroyed this side of him. »When did I ever lie to you? I might have not always disclosed my exact plans of action with you but I was, in a way, always truthful with you!«

 _In a way_ , he thought. Maybe that was even the truth, at least in Oswald’s book and maybe that should be enough. Perhaps it could be enough one day for Jim when this city would have worn him out enough to stop caring about this gangster bird and his motives or how he was getting himself into even deeper trouble this week.

The only reason why he did not rise to the bait was Barbara who watched both men with huge eyes. She didn't know who Oswald Cobblepot was. She knew who the Penguin was, yes, but she didn't know that Oswald was this man and a part of him wanted it to stay this way too. Barbara seemed to like Oswald and he didn't want to take that from her by exposing the truth about the gangster, even though he should.

The way Oswald looked at him was challenging for sure. He was trying to get him to say something he might regret later. This was always the thing with Oswald. He provoked people into actions that they couldn't take back.

»I wonder what Ed would say to this.«

It was a low blow and Jim knew that it was the moment the words had left his mouth. Oswald’s eyes darkened at the mention of his former best friend and right-hand man but instead of actually saying anything, he just pinched his lips and focussed back on the game on the table to make his next move. »Oh, would you look at that? It seems I won.«

With those words, Oswald rose from his spot on the sofa and walked over to the kitchenette. Jim could only watch him walk over to the sink and turn his back to the rest of them as he stared out of the window into the endless white abyss they were currently caught in. Jim was sure that Oswald would have stormed out if he would have been able to and the dark look Martin gave him did not escape him either.

The little boy didn't waste a second to get up and trail after his dad. Martin tugged gently as Oswald’s sleeve to get his attention. Fuck, he almost drowned in Jim’s old sweatshirt. There were no words exchanged between the two as Oswald just gently ruffled Martin’s curls and then asked him to help tidy up the board game.

A part of him felt guilty about what he said. He didn't know what happened between Oswald and his best friend but he was aware that something had to have happened between them during Oswald’s time as mayor - before Ed had been sent to Arkham again. If they would still be on good terms, Oswald would have done his damnedest to get Edward out or keep him from getting arrested in the first place. The fact that Edward Nygma, his chief of staff, had been arrested for murdering his girlfriend - again - had ultimately ruined Oswald’s run as mayor. He remembered the day of the now infamous interview with this lady that Oswald had ended with the words ‘to hell with the people’. He had seemed cranky and nervous the entire time, dark circles under his eyes and his skin flushed and blotchy.

He had never questioned what had happened back then. There was just too much other stuff going on. Jervis Tetch, Lee and Mario. He hadn't cared. Then again, should he have cared? Despite what Oswald had always claimed, they were no friends. The fact that Oswald had come to him in his hour of need was certainly weird, but not unusual per se. He was just a pawn in Oswald’s elaborate games. Someone he could use. And that was how it had been since the start, regardless of what Oswald would say. Regardless of the way he used to look at him.

Maybe a part of Oswald had actually believed the lies he had told everyone else, including Jim. Maybe he had honestly believed that Jim and he were friends - at least as long as this friendship would be convenient for him to uphold.

The sad truth was that people like Oswald didn't have any friends because they didn't know what friendship was and he was almost sure that this was just one reason why Edward had landed himself behind bars again. Not that he would shed any tears for this lunatic. He deserved being locked up but he could imagine that being with Oswald for so long had not necessarily helped his mental state.

»You really think so little of me, huh?«

Oswald’s voice cut through the darkness of the cabin long after they had switched off the lights.

»What?«

»You have to think real little of me, if you bring up Edward. I can only assume that you are under the belief that my influence led to him killing this woman.«

»Oswald.« He propped himself up on his elbow down on his makeshift bed on the floor. The heat and dim orange light of the crackling fire was all the light they had but Jim was aware that they needed to preserve firewood. They didn't know when the snow outside the door would melt enough for them to get new firewood out of the shack outside, after all. »I always thought that you were capable of a great number of things.«

»Including driving my best friend mad.«

»You have certainly driven _me_ mad on more than one occasion.«

»So I take it that you believe that I have deserved what I got from Sofia.«

Did he? The truth was, Jim didn't even know what he thought about all of that. He was angry that he was out here now in the middle of nowhere when he should be in Gotham, cleaning up the city and getting dirt on Sofia at last. »Maybe you did.« He muttered as he turned around on his makeshift bed again and turned his back to Oswald at this.

※※※※※※※

Jim's words were still haunting him. It was stupid, of course, and he blamed being locked in this cabin for such a long time that his mind had so much ample time to run wild and drive him insane. Was this how Ed had felt around him? Three days into this situation and he was going nuts inside the cabin. They spent their days playing board games or cards or sewing little dolls. The kids were behaving quite good considering the situation. Barbara was a trooper. She was full of energy and yet she hadn't been driven insane just yet.

When the afternoon of the third day inside the cabin rolled around, Jim tested the front door again and, finally, they were able to open it to leave. For the kids being able to go outside was heaven and though Oswald itched to actually go out into the snow as well, his leg still hurt. Not to mention that he wanted to stay out of Jim’s way as much as possible. He had to plan his return to Gotham and how he would get rid of Sofia, after all. And for that, he needed the privacy of this cabin and access to the telephone without Jim listening into his call to Gabe.

Of course, he was not a big fan of the idea that Jim would actually look after his boy out there in the snow but then again, James knew that he better brought back his son in one piece or to not come back to this cabin at all. And Martin was tough. He didn't need Oswald to hold his hand all the time, despite how much Oswald liked to fret over his boy.

Soon after they had left the cabin to go and play in the wood - and preferably get a bit more firewood out of the shed outside, Oswald pulled out his phone. As expected, he didn't have any cell reception out here but there was still the landline and so he walked over to the kitchenette and grabbed the phone that was mounted to the wall. He knew Gabe’s number by heart these days. He was quick to put in the number via the dial plate. Yet, he was rewarded with nothing as he put the phone to his ear and listened. No dial tone, nothing at all. The line was dead. Of course, it was. Of course, it would be dead.

With a groan, he slammed the phone back on the handle a bit harder than necessary.

»Gee, what has the phone ever done to you?« Jim’s voice caught him by surprise from somewhere behind him. As he turned around to face the other man, he found him standing in the now open door with a smile on his face. If he wouldn't know it any better, he would almost be inclined to believe that he looked a little apologetic. Then again, he was James Gordon. He probably wasn't even aware how much his words had hurt Oswald and how deep they had cut. Jim, at the end of the day, always only saw the criminal in him that he should have killed all those years ago. Simple as that.

And yet, despite knowing all this, his foolish little heart still perked up seeing this smile as it always had ever since he had first met this man. Jim Gordon, he assumed, would always hold a part of his heart. Even when he had been in love with Edward, a part of his heart had been entirely Jim’s. He met his words with a dark frown on his face as Jim dared to speak to him like this. It was stupid, yes, but it was what he had to do to protect himself from falling even deeper into the rabbit hole.

»Shouldn't you be out there freezing your ass of and watching over the kids?«

Jim scratched his neck at those words. Oh, god damn it this sheepish look of his would be the death of Oswald sooner or later! »I wanted to apologize to you.«

»You wanted what?«

»You heard me.« Jim groaned. »Listen, Oswald … I was angry the other night. Angry that you pulled me into this mess you made with Sofia. I shouldn't have lashed out on you like this. I don't know what happened between you and Edward … I can only assume that it wasn't a good thing and I didn't mean to pry either. It's just … we have to live together for a while now until it will be safe to go back to Gotham again and we shouldn't be fighting already over someone as unimportant as Edward Nygma.«

His first instinct was to tell Jim that he didn't have the right to call Edward unimportant. Edward was very important - to him, at the very least. Ever since he had first woken up in Ed’s apartment, Edward Nygma had been important to him. And Edward Nygma would always be important to him, in a weird way.

»I can admit that I should have thought a little more about where I wanted to go before I crashed at your place, knowing that you had a child with you.« Oswald admitted with a sigh as he crossed his arms. He had changed into his suit this morning again but a part of him missed Jim’s comfortable clothes. They had smelled like Jim. »I have endangered you and your lovely little girl and for that, I am deeply sorry. I hope that you can forgive me for this indiscretion one day. Although I am most certain that Sofia Falcone would have come after you sooner or later anyway.«

»Do you now?«

»You killed her brother.« Jim opened his mouth to say something in his defense but Oswald cut him off right away as he raised his hand sharply. »You did, James. There is no way around it. I understand that Mario Falcone has been under the influence of the Tetch virus and wanted to kill Lee at the moment you shot him but you still shot him. I don't know much about the Falcone children, to be honest. Even during my time as Carmine’s lackey, he didn't talk much about them, so I cannot make any claim pertaining to the relationship of the Falcone kids with each other. But no matter whether or not Sofia and her brother had a good relationship or not, family means a lot to those kinds of people. Even if she hated her brother, she would still be forced to kill you for going against her family. That is just how those family dynamics function, my dear friend. Undoubtedly, Sofia came to Gotham not only to help you and get rid of me - because, in all honesty, she didn't have much of an agenda against me, to begin with except for the fact that she thinks that Gotham belongs to her and not me - but to fuck with you as well, James. Two birds with one stone and all that.«

The change in Jim’s expression told him clearly that Jim knew that he was right and that he had thought about that as well already.

»She killed her father.« Jim finally admitted. »The day we met at Falcone’s house in Gotham, the day he was shot dead, it was actually Sofia who hired those gunmen to kill her father and make it look like you did it. She wanted to put the blame on you.«

»What else is new?« Oswald huffed. »Don Falcone was like a father to me, Jim. Just like Fish Mooney was like a mother to me.«

»You killed Fish.«

»Only once.« Oswald rolled his eyes at this. »Back then … I didn't know any better. I was angry, I was afraid and I wanted Gotham. I was beaten down so long - by her, by Don Falcone, by Don Maroni. None of them ever took me seriously. All of them always underestimated me. I saw no other way and when she returned I was terrified of the implications, knowing that she would be out for my head to ruin everything that I had created out of nothing. I fought so hard for my success, Jim, that I couldn't stand the thought of losing it again. But then we reconciled and I realized how wrong I was. I learned a lot from her and Don Falcone. My biological parents might have created Oswald Cobblepot, but it were Don Falcone and Fish Mooney who created the Penguin, Jim. And for that, I will always be thankful. I would have never harmed the old man. And even if we would have been at odds … he was sick. He was a dying man. I could have just waited for the end to come.«

Jim was silent for a moment before he nodded slowly. »I guess that makes sense.« He mumbled and the way he said it told Oswald that Jim had already known that Oswald hadn't been behind Don Falcone’s murder in the first place. »So what do we do now? About Sofia, I mean. How do we return to Gotham with our kids when she hadn't been dealt with? And how do we deal with her, when we are stuck out here in the middle of nowhere?«

»Well, bad news - the phone doesn’t work. But I guess that should have been expected. No one paid the bills, after all. That this cabin would have a phone, to begin with, was a surprise on its own.« Oswald shrugged. »Anyway, this means that I cannot reach Gabe. I must admit that I fear for him a little. What if Sofia captures him and tries to get answers from him? Gabe is loyal like a dog but he is stupid. As soon as Sofia will learn that he doesn't know anything, he will be dead. So, I’m afraid we have to rely on your partner, as much as I hate that.«

»Harvey is a good man.« Oswald’s snort made Jim only roll his eyes. »Anyway, Harvey will try to find dirt on Sofia.«

»What if she asks him about you?«

»He will tell her that I have gone to Metropolis over the holidays to be with my mother because I needed a break from everything.«

»Clever.«

»You think so?«

»Well, no one would have believed him if he would say that you called in sick or went on an actual vacation.«

»Is that so?«

»You’re never sick, James Gordon - and you never take time off for a real vacation. The only reason why you would take days off is because Harvey would literally force you to do it. You are a man married to your job. That's why your relationships never work out.«

»Going by that logic, I really should just marry you then, shouödnt I?«

»I'm afraid I can't follow.«

»Well, if I am married to my work and my work usually revolves around you and your latest shenanigans in some way, the solution would be to marry you. This way I might keep you from getting into too much trouble.«

Back in the day, he would have blushed but now he could only laugh at this. »If this is your way of proposing to me, James Gordon, you really need to practice a little more. I am not that easy to convince. I want at least a nice bouquet of flowers and a dinner before I agree to marry you.«

»A classy guy, I see.« Jim laughed. The sound filled his chest with warmth and spread through his entire body. Oh, curse this man!

Before Oswald could say anything stupid, though, there was a shout ringing through the air outside of the cabin, bouncing off the mountain and the trees. »Uncle Jim! Martin is hurt!«

 

**-End of Chapter 6-**


	7. Chapter 7

Martin had injured his leg. He had slipped on a root on the ground while playing catch with Barbara and rolled down a small ravine. It was not a big deal per se in Jim’s eyes. It was for Oswald, though. Jim wasn't even that surprised to find Oswald fretting over his kid after Jim had carried him back inside. Oswald would have done so himself but with his own injury, he was barely able to sustain his own body weight. Oswald would never admit that but Jim had seen the way he had struggled at their arrival at the cabin when Oswald had carried Martin over from the car to the cabin as they first arrived here in the middle of nowhere.

To Jim's surprise, despite his ankle being broken, Martin didn't do as much as shed one single tear all the way to the cabin. The boy was tough, his mouth pinched into a tight line that resembled his father too much to be a coincidence.

»You should have kept an eye on them.« Oswald growled at Jim as he made sure that his boy had no other injuries. Barbara seemed a little anxious as she watched the scene.

»It was my fault.« She quipped quietly with tears already brimming in her eyes. She wasn't afraid of Oswald’s wrath as he said it either. Her tears were for Martin who had gotten hurt while they were outside together. Even someone as self-absorbed as Oswald Cobblepot was able to see that clearly. »I didn't watch out for him.«

»It's not your fault.« Jim quickly consoled her. »Accidents happen. Oswald is right. I should have been out there with you and watch out for you.« Martin might have gotten hurt either way. It was impossible to say if he would have slipped and fallen so badly if Jim would have been around or not. Nonetheless, he should have been there for the risk of them being found by Oswald’s enemies. This was his responsibility and not Barbara’s but his little girl was always very protective of those around her.

Of course, he noticed how surprised Oswald looked at him at this admission. Well, he couldn't blame him. After all, James Gordon admitting his guilt in any situation was a rare thing, he supposed. At least Oswald didn't say anything about it. That changed, however, as Martin started to gesticulate at him, seemingly angry at his dad.

»I know that you are not a baby anymore!« Oswald sighed but Martin kept going relentlessly. »No, that's not true and you know that Martin. All I want is to protect you!«

Martin just huffed his annoyance and gave another, very flippant gesture that made Oswald stand up and leave the scene for just a moment to retreat to the kitchen while Jim patched Martin up and soon finished the job.  

»Can we go play now?« Barbara asked after Jim was finally done with fixing Martin’s ankle as best as he could out here with the limited supplies Harvey brought them. At least Harvey had been thoughtful enough to bring the medical supplies when he brought them groceries a few days ago. He missed his best friend and partner and he couldn't deny that he was worried for the old grouch as well. If anything would happen to Harvey because of Sofia, it would be on Jim. He was a little surprised about Barbara’s question after she had been so riled up about Martin just now but as he looked at her, he could see the uneasiness in her face shining through quite clearly.

»Of course.« Jim sighed. »But stay close to the cabin and take care that Martin doesn’t strain his ankle too much.«

Surprisingly, Oswald did not say anything to this. He just let the kids go outside without any kind of sharp or rude comments about Jim being too lenient and carefree. As Jim started to clean up the mess he had made while patching up Martin, Oswald remained in the kitchen, sitting down heavily at the table.

»So, what's the story?« Jim sighed. »What were you guys fighting about just now?«

»Nothing.« He said but he meant ‘None of your business’. Over the course of the past four years, Jim had learned to read the finer details of not only Oswald’s face but his speech as well. Oswald was not usually one to give short answers like this.

»Yeah, sure looked like nothing to me.« Jim teased as he walked over to the table and sat down across from him. »Tell me.«

He shouldn't care. That was just a fact of life. He shouldn't care why Oswald had been arguing with his son just now. It was indeed none of his business. And yet, being out here with Oswald and being able to watch him act like a real human being, made it all the harder to see the cocky bastard in Oswald that Oswald usually liked to portray to the world. He sure still was that kind of person but Jim had a harder time seeing his enemy in him.

Oswald gave him one of those long calculating looks Jim had gotten used to over the course of all those years they knew each other already. Oswald had always had this intense kind of stare that made him feel uneasy in some odd way, as if Oswald was able to see right through him and to his core. As if Oswald was able to see something that not even Jim knew was there.

»It really is nothing.« Oswald sighed and deflated at once as he turned his gaze towards the window over the sink shortly. »It's just … I get so frustrated with Martin sometimes.«

»Because he doesn't want to be babied?« Jim huffed and the glare Oswald was shooting at him was clearly missing its old vigor. He tried, though.

»Yes.« He then admitted quieter. »And he’s right, I suppose. I'm just a little too … careful, too scared that something might happen to him if I don't hold him close enough.« Oswald drove a hand through his hair. »I sound like my mother.«

Jim laughed at that. »There is nothing wrong about wanting to protect your child, Oswald.« He then smiled at the other man. »And yes, maybe you are overdoing it a little, but let me tell you something I learned since I have Barbara in my life. It's better to care too much and be a bit too careful than to be neglectful or to not take it seriously enough.«

»Sounds like you have experience in this department.«

»I do.« Jim laughed although the memories of that time that came to mind were not something he held in fond regard.

»Barbara does not look neglected to me. She seems to love you very much.«

»Of course, I am the best, after all.« The wink he shot at Oswald was met with a deadpan stare. »But it was not always like it's now, you know? No matter if you adopt a kid or have a child of your own, it's a growing experience for both of you and it's not just perfect from the start, Oswald. When I first got Barbara, she was three years old and had just lost her parents. Not that they would have taken much care of her anyway. They had a nanny for her since her birth because both of them were rarely home. I never met her before the funeral and when I took her to Gotham, I wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing. It was … scary. I'm not gonna lie.  It really was scary for me and for her too. She was ripped from everything she knew until then and I was completely out of my depths there. I have never cared for any child before that and I didn't know what to do at all.«

Oswald’s eyes were fixed on his face again with that intent stare he got when he listened closely to what another person had to say. It was a flattering little feeling, he couldn't deny that. When Oswald got this look on his face while listening to him, it was hard not to feel as if he was the only person in this world that mattered to the mobster.

»So anyway … It was a mess, of course.« He then continued with a chuckle. Thinking back on it, it felt like it had only been yesterday that he came home with this little girl. »My flat was too small, I just ended my relationship with Barb, I just met Lee, I wasn't prepared for any of this and I had no one to help me. I can't even begin to tell you how often I fought with that little girl back then. She cried and I yelled. And then she yelled and I had a hard time not to yell back. We didn't get along at all. I was a stranger to her and I thought, my brother just decided I should have her to make me suffer. I thought, maybe I am just not cut out to be a father.«

»What did you do?«

»I called my mother.« Jim chuckled. »And asked her to come and take Barbara back to Metropolis.«

»But she didn't.«

»Well, she came.« Jim huffed. »And she told me, essentially, to man up to the task and stop being such a whiny, selfish baby. Needless to say, my mother and I don't have the best relationship. Anyway, I told her, when she came, that I couldn't take care of Barbara, that my job was too dangerous, that Gotham was too dangerous for that little girl.«

»Which was very wise.«

»I thought so too!« Jim laughed and drew a small chuckle from Oswald’s throat. It was a nice little sound. He could get used to hearing him laugh and see the small wrinkles appear around his eyes. He looked younger like this. Softer. »We spent Christmas together, my mom, Barbara and I, and we argued every day. Let me tell you, I had nicer and more peaceful Christmases during my time with the army! Well, long story short, we went to the mall one of those days to get a few things for Christmas, and of course, Mom and I argued again. We argued about Barbara, about me not being fit to be a parent, about how she would be better suited to raise her, my job, the dangers of Gotham, that I should just come home to Metropolis - everything.«

»And then?«

»Then Barbara was gone.« Jim sighed. »She was just … The one second she was right next to me and the next she disappeared and I freaked out completely. I was sure someone had kidnapped her right from underneath my nose. One of my enemies or the many criminals holding a grudge against me. I was … I was terrified. I thought ‘now this thing I have been scared of for the entire time finally happened’ and I thought that I had just proved my point, that I was not fit to be a father or at least her uncle.«

»But you found her.«

»Yes.« Jim sighed. »She was hiding in a toy store.« He drove hand over his face. »You see … During all this fighting with my mom, I never stopped to consider how Barabara felt about all of this. I didn't watch out for her properly. I didn't take my role seriously enough. And then I realized that I went about this all wrong. I thought I had to be her father, that I had to be like Roger, when I just needed to be her Uncle Jimmy. I started to realize how lost and alone and scared she was in this new environment without her parents and how much she truly trusted me to take care of her.«

»And it got better after this?«

»Yes.« Jim smiled. »I guess I needed this little moment of shock to get my head straight again. After this … Well, things didn't magically turn out well or got better right away but Barb and I suddenly had a new and very different kind of understanding for each other and we grew from that and became a proper team.«

Oswald was silent for a moment while he was mulling Jim’s words over in his head. »I just want … I want him to be safe and happy. I don't want him to be scared or in pain or anything that I knew growing up. I want to do him justice, to make it better and to not repeat the mistakes that were made with me. I don't want my son to get bullied in school or pushed around by others just because he doesn't talk.«

»You are doing a good job, Oswald.« Jim tried to comfort the other man.

»It's not like he can’t talk either.« Oswald then sighed. »He just … He doesn't. I have him for a year now and he still won’t talk. I feel like a complete failure.«

»Don't.« Jim urged as he reached over the table and took a hold of his hand for just a moment just to let go as if burned by the touch. »I mean … I don't know what happened to this boy before he met you but … You are doing your best and when I can see that, he surely can see that as well.«

»I am not sure about that.« Oswald sighed quietly. »Sometimes I just don't know if I am fit for this job or if he would have it better had I not adopted him. It was … selfish.«

»He seems to love you very much.« Jim shrugged his shoulders. »And hell, I would have never thought I would ever say something like this, Oswald, but you seem to be a good father and that you love him is all that matters.«

※※※※※※※

As he later was alone with Martin and put him to bed, his little boy seemed a bit remorseful of what happened earlier that same day and for arguing with his dad. Oswald was tucking him in carefully even though Barbara would soon mess up the bedding again when she would come out of the bathroom.

»I’m sorry, Martin.« Oswald muttered after a moment. »For earlier today. I shouldn't have babied you as I did. I know that you are much tougher than this. You have been a rock for me these past few months ever since Ed. I shouldn't have acted as I did.«

Before he knew what was happening, Martin had already flung his arms around his neck and pressed up close to him. He didn't know what to make of it for a second or two and just hugged his little boy back instead. He could feel how his boy’s shoulders slumped in relief.

»I should have had more confidence in you today, Martin. After all that he went through lately.« His little boy had been kidnapped, after all, and came back from it just fine. At least he looked like it and didn't seem too scared from this experience. »I just want you to know that you can talk to me about everything, okay? I know you had to have been scared by all that crap that happened and I promised you that I would protect you from shit like that.«

» _It's not your fault._ « Martin replied quickly as he pulled away, the movement of his hands so fast he had a hard time reading it right. » _You didn't know what would happen._ «

»I should have expected it, though.« Oswald sighed and smiled at him softly. »My life is a dangerous one, Martin, and I should have been more careful with your safety. I didn't think it through enough when I decided to adopt you. I just … did it out of my own selfish reasons and then everything backfired on me like everything always backfires on me. Furthermore, I endangered your life and that is unforgivable.«

Martin shook his head at his words and just put a hand on Oswald’s cheek for a moment. Martin knew exactly how to calm him down and this gesture actually helped Oswald to calm down in the end just as Martin had probably hoped it would. Maybe Jim was right and he was being too hard on himself. Martin was a bright child. He was smart and resilient. He hadn't crumbled in fear under his kidnappers and instead told stories of how he had made their lives a living hell while he had been with them. He was proud of him.

※※※※※※※

»You did good today.« Jim smiled at Barbara as he brushed his teeth with her. Barbara looked up at him with her big blue eyes and smiled around her toothbrush. »I mean with Martin. You called for help right away and thus made sure nothing worse would happen. I am very proud of you.«

»He shouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place.«

»No.« He chuckled. »Of course not, but stuff like this happens. Martin is okay and he will heal just fine in no time thanks to you. You did good.«

»I did what you would have done.« Barbara then grinned.

»What do you mean?«

»Well, you helped Mr. Oswald.« She shrugged. »He was injured and he came to us and you helped him even though he is a bad guy.«

Jim almost choked on his own spit before spitting out into the sink. »He’s what?« He gasped but Barbara rolled his eyes and looked at him almost affronted.

»Come on…« She sighed. »He’s the Penguin.«

He wanted to deny it immediately but then he just sighed and smirked at her instead. What use would there be in lying to his little girl? He had always known that it was only a matter of time until she would find out. She was a smart girl, after all, and she was living with a detective of the GCPD.  »How do you know?«

»Oh, please.« She rolled her eyes and popped the _p_ just the same as Oswald would do. Already the mobster was a bad influence on his little girl. »Martin is carrying around a plush penguin.«

Well, she wasn't wrong but, of course, it was much more complicated than this. Not that he needed to talk to his little girl about all the details. He just laughed a little and sat down on the edge of the tub. »You are too smart for me to act as if you wouldn't be right.« He chuckled. »But since you know who he is … aren't you afraid of him?«

»No.« Barbara said before spitting out and rinsing out her mouth. She looked at him in a way only a small child possibly could, completely deadpan and mystified that he would even ask such a question. »He seems very nice and Martin says that his dad is the best dad he could have ever wished for so how evil could he possibly be?«

Jim was silent for a moment. »See? I never looked at it like that.« He smiled because it was true. Odd how easy life was from the perspective of a child. »I learn a lot from you, Marshmallow. But you are right, he isn't evil. Not by a long shot. I've seen evil these past few years in my job … and Oswald is not one of these people. He is infuriating and annoying, yes but not evil, I suppose. In the end, he always does what's right for the city. And he has helped me often in the past. More often than he would have needed to, I assume.«

»Well, of course, he is your friend and friends help out  their friends when they are needed.«

»Did he say that?«

»No … It's obvious that you are friends.« Barbara huffed.

»Well … I suppose you are right. But I haven't always been a very good friend then.«

»You can always change that, Uncle Jimmy.«

As he later tucked her in, Martin was already fast asleep with his plush penguin and the little doll of Oswald in his arms, his injury long forgotten already as it seemed. Jim lingered for a moment after he had switched off the light and watched those two. Maybe Barbara was right and everything was just so simple. Adults seemed to make everything so much more complicated than it actually needed to be and no one knew this better than Jim. Maybe he and Oswald could still turn things around and become real friends.

What an odd thought to have.

He would have rather cut off his own arm before becoming Oswald’s friend a few years ago. And now here he was, swayed by his niece’s words of wisdom and after spending a few days with the mobster. Oswald was already asleep on the couch when Jim joined him in the main room of the cabin and sat down on his makeshift bed. He found himself staring at this all too human criminal in the half-light of the crackling fire.

Maybe he had misjudged Oswald until now. Maybe a friendship between cop and gangster was indeed desirable.

He thought about what Don Falcone told him about his father a long time ago. His own father, the pinnacle of goodness in Jim’s eyes while growing up, had been friends with the head of the most powerful mob family of Gotham. A lawman and a criminal and it had worked out just fine. _Your father was a good man, Jim, but he was carrying a knife_. Maybe, he thought, there was wisdom in those words. Maybe, he thought, Oswald could be his knife.

 

**-End of Chapter 7-**


	8. Chapter 8

Consciousness came as it tended to: slow and confusing. The one moment he had been numb to the world and completely ignorant to it, the next moment, he slowly started to realize that he was wide awake and couldn't even tell for how long or why he was awake in the first place. The night was still dark. In fact, the main room of the cabin was a lot darker than it had been before he had gone to sleep.

The fire was out. Only then, Jim realized how cold he was. He was shivering from head to toe underneath his blankets lying on the cold hard ground. The fluorescent face of his wristwatch read 03:15 AM. Nothing good ever happened after three AM.  That's what his mother had always told him and Jim had tried to value that one lesson he got from her.

»Fuck.« He muttered quietly into the darkness and silence of the room.

»You forgot to put another log in.« The voice startled him so much that he let out a surprised gasp and shot upright on his makeshift bed.

»Jesus Christ!« He huffed as he took a deep breath, clutching his chest as his heart was racing like mad. »Why are you awake?«

He could barely make out Oswald’s silhouette on the sofa and envied him for the comfort on those cushions while his own back was in agony the fourth or fifth night in a row. Of course, Oswald was injured and it would be plain mean to have him sleep on the ground instead. Plus, Jim was used to worse places to sleep from his time during the army. Still, he was allowed to be just a little petty and whiny, right?

»Because it's cold.« Oswald replied and though he couldn't see it, he knew that Oswald was rolling his eyes at his stupid question.

»Yeah … I noticed.« Jim mumbled. »Sorry for that. I was a bit distracted before I went to sleep, I forgot to put another log in.«

»So now we will have to freeze to death out here in the middle of nowhere and Harvey will find our bodies and be mystified by what transpired. He will probably think that I murdered you.« Oswald sighed. »Well, I truly would love to strangle you right now, to be honest. Then again that would be a mercifully quick death compared to freezing to death and I am too petty to allow you a quick death like that.«

After a moment of silence, Jim slowly got to his feet and grabbed his blankets to walk over to the sofa. »Scoot over.«

»I beg your pardon?«

»I said soot over. That sofa bed is big enough for the both of us and if you are truly afraid of freezing to death out here, I can assure you my body heat might just keep you alive until the sun comes up.«  He didn't wait for Oswald to react as he sat down on the edge of the sofa and just shoved Oswald against the backrest instead of waiting for him.

»Hey!« Oswald huffed as Jim was already lying down next to him and pulling his blanket over his body. He felt already warmer just lying at Oswald’s side now.

»Oh come on, what's the big deal now?« Jim huffed and made a point of shuffling around on the sofa just to annoy the mobster a little more than strictly necessary at three in the morning.

»It's too small for us both.« Oswald complained quietly - perhaps even a little embarrassed with the whole situation and with Jim being so close to him.

»Never had a sleepover with a friend?« Jim chuckled. »Or were you a good host and slept on the floor?« Well, he couldn't actually picture Oswald Cobblepot having a sleepover with his probably non-existent friends in his childhood. He couldn't imagine that Oswald had been a very popular kid at school - or anywhere for that matter. Looking back at the last couple of days, he couldn't quite tell why. Oswald was not the nicest person in the world, yes, but he was charming in his own right. He was witty and clever. Jim thought, if they had met as children, he might have liked him, might have even felt protective over Oswald.

 _Oh God, it's true. Nothing good ever happens after 3 AM_ , he thought because here he was now, James Gordon, reminiscing over how he and Oswald would have been childhood friends if their lived had played out any differently.

»Never had a sleepover.« He sighed. »And stop teasing me.«

»I don't … Why would I tease you?«

»Oh come on, Jim.« He groaned. »We both know that you know that I never had any friends and you asking me such a question only aims to humiliate me in admitting to my lack of friends.«

»That wasn't my intention.« He mumbled. »I’m sorry, Oz. I was just curious. I mean … I would have expected that you at least shared a bed with Edward as you hid in his apartment all those years ago.«

»No … No, Ed would have never … He slept on the couch and allowed me to keep the bed to myself. I was injured, after all.«

Of course, Ed Nygma would have given his bed to Oswald. He was a gentleman after all and Oswald was probably all for this chivalrous stuff. Maybe now was not exactly the best time to ask Oswald all these personal questions, not when they would be lying huddled together on a sleeper sofa like this. However, Jim Gordon had never quite done things the conventional way. That just wasn't his way of dealing with life, he assumed.

»So … You and Ed … You know I was always curious about that.« He felt Oswald stiffen next to him. »Was there ever more going on between you guys?«

»No.« The answer came too quickly for Jim, as a detective, not to notice it right away.

»No?«

»No, James. He had a girlfriend.«

»Yes, I know that. That Kristen Kringle clone, huh?« Oswald gave a small annoyed huff in response as he mentioned that woman. Well, that had been quite the dilemma and he remembered the surrounding drama vividly. »I just thought … It was odd. Seeing you guys interact and stuff. I mean, pretty much the entire police force was sure you guys were an item.«

»We weren't.«

»But you wanted to, right?«

There was a long moment of silence before Oswald let out a long shaky breath that sounded as if he had held his breath for quite some time and only decided to speak now so that Jim might let him sleep again.

»Yes, I did.« He admitted. »I am not shy to admit that I was in love with him even when he met this god awful woman.«

»What happened? I mean … He killed her and then he tried to destroy everything you’ve built.« Now was clearly not the time to discuss Oswald’s failed love life and he shouldn't keep prying like this. Still, Jim was Jim and he couldn't help it. That was just who he was as a person.

»He blamed me for her death.« Oswald shrugged beside him. »And God, I thought about killing this woman. I knew immediately that something wasn't right about her when I first saw her. Turns out I was right but Ed didn't believe me before he killed her and after he did … He blamed me for not doing something prior. He said that he trusted me to keep him safe in any way, that I should have killed her before he would have done so because killing Isabella drove him to the brink of insanity, worse than ever before.«

»Sounds like Nygma.« Jim scoffed. »Always blaming others for his own mistakes.«

»I'm in no way better than him, James.« He sighed. »In no way. I was ridiculously jealous back then. I wanted her to die to have him all to myself. It took me a while after he was sent to Arkham to realize that Ed and I would have never worked out as a couple. We were just not meant to be, I assume. Still … When I saw Martin and got to know him a bit … I felt like adopting him would maybe be the perfect ploy to get Edward to see that he could have everything that this woman would never be able to give him with me - that I understood his fear of having biological children and that I didn't see a problem in that the same way she did.«

Adopting a child to woo the man he loved? Yes, that sounded like Oswald indeed.

»Anway … He confronted me about the kid and I finally admitted what I felt for him. Ed … He just left. He resigned from his position, left the manor and never returned. He was disgusted with me and my behavior or my decision to drag an innocent child into this mess as well just to win him over. He moved in with Isabella and shortly thereafter he killed her.«

»That's still not your fault. Adopting Martin out of those reasons was selfish and a dick move, yes, but it was not your fault that Ed killed this woman.«

»I know that now. Back then, however, I was … heartbroken. I allowed my empire to crumble and the mayorship to be snatched from me, in the end. And I wasn't a good father to Martin either. I neglected him. I was too occupied with my own emotions running wild. I was too selfish, too sad, too … too _me_.« The chuckle he let out sounded almost more like a little sob. »But Martin … He just went to me one night when I was drunk and in pain and heartbroken and though I yelled at him, he sat down next to me and gave me that doll he made of me. And now look at me. Lying on a sleeper sofa with the James Gordon … Life can be crazy.«

»Life in Gotham has this tendency, yes.« Jim smirked as he closed his eyes against the darkness surrounding him. Lying next to Oswald was somehow, in a weird way, not awkward at all but rather quite comforting. It felt nice having a warm body next to his again, even if it was the body of a man who was considered by many in Gotham as one of the most dangerous.

Jim, however, had gotten a rare glimpse into the inner workings of Oswald’s mind right now and he couldn't quite deny the warmth spreading in his chest because of it. »I want you to know, Oswald« He began quietly. »that I never hated you.«

The scoff was expected but Jim gently nudged his leg against Oswald’s as retribution and continued. »It's true. You annoyed me, yes, but I never hated you. You were a massive pain in the ass at times but, in a way, I admired you for your resilience and strength. You managed something nobody else would have been able to do and you did it with grace. And every time you were pushed down, you got yourself back together, got back to your feet and continued. I realize now that I misjudged you. Growing up in a city like this isn't easy. And I wonder how I would have turned out had I stayed here after my father's death and grown up in Gotham. Maybe I would have become only one of the many crooked cops then.«

»Don't flatter yourself.« Oswald huffed. »You are quite crooked, James.«

»Am I?«

»If you would have done your job correctly these past four years, I would serve a life sentence in Blackgate or still be in Arkham. So yes, you are a bit crooked.« His words forced a small laugh from the cop. He couldn't deny the truth behind his words. So many people were talking behind his back about his weird relationship to the gangster that it became more like a running joke at this point.

»Only when it comes to you, apparently.«

»Oh? Do you have a soft spot for me then? I feel honored.«

He did, didn't he? He had a soft spot for the gangster. »Maybe.«

»Oh, see? You are teasing me again, James.«

»Do I?«

»You are certainly aware of the massive crush I had on you since we met.« Oswald chuckled. »And now you tease me so cruelly.«

He didn't know when he had finally fallen asleep but when he woke up, he did so to the smiling face of his little niece looking down on him. The grin only grew larger as Jim blinked up at her and it took him a moment to realize why.

He felt warm and more rested than he had for a long time as he woke up now. There was a warm body in his arms, snuggled closely into his side, a head resting on his chest as if it would belong there.

Oh.

Oh, crap.

He tried to untangle from Oswald without waking the other man which was a lot harder than it should be. And, as he finally succeeded, Jim had to admit that the cold started to seep into his bones again almost immediately. He regretted letting go of the other man. He didn't know what it was about Oswald but it had felt comfortable and good waking up with him in his arms. It had felt a lot better than it should have felt. He should feel disgusted with himself and with Oswald especially - but he didn't.

»You are up early.« He instead addressed Barbara who was still grinning a bit too wide for his taste.

»I was hungry.« She explained joyfully and, of course, his little girl did not waste time to ask the really important questions next. »Are you together, Uncle Jimmy?«

»What? Who?«

»You and Mr. Penguin!« Barbara grinned.

»No! No, of course not!«

»Why not? You like him, don't you?«

»I … I will not have this kind of conversation this early in the morning, Barb.« He sighed before he slowly walked over to the kitchenette. If he was already up, he might as well make coffee and try to make something resembling breakfast. He wouldn't lie though … He would much rather wait for Oswald to wake up and cook. He was addicted to Oswald’s cooking by now. Oh, what this man could do with a few eggs and a pan!

Barbara wouldn't let it go so easily and Jim knew this. At least, she stopped for now and just sat down at the kitchen table while Jim went to work. His gaze slipped outside the window over the kitchen sink. The world was a pure winter wonderland and he wondered if they would be back home in time for Christmas at least. It didn't look too promising for now. He hadn't heard from Harvey and Oswald hadn't been able to reach his henchmen either. Sofia Falcone was probably whipping Gotham into shape right now and there was nothing he could do about it without endangering Barbara. Jim had never been the most patient man in the world and so being here and having to wait for news from the city, was agony.

Looking back at Oswald, he thought that he probably felt the very same way.

Jim felt bad for the kids, though. It was almost Christmas and they were all imprisoned in this cabin. No gifts, no Christmas tree. Nothing. How would he explain to Barbara why Santa wouldn't be able to find them here? He didn't want to lie to his little girl. He was done lying and coming up with stories. Of course, he couldn't tell her the truth about their situation as well. It would traumatize her. At least she would maybe get off his case then concerning Oswald.

Gladly, he didn't have to think about all of this too much or even confront Barbara about what was really going on around them because shortly after he started cooking, Martin and Oswald joined them in the kitchen as well.

He was glad that he had woken up before Oswald. This way, at least they didn't have this awkwardness between them now. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if they had woken up at the same time and if Oswald had found himself snuggled up to Jim. He had to admit … It had felt way better than it had any right to and he was still confused about it now. Of course, one might argue that he was a little touch-starved. After all, his last relationship was with Lee and that ship had sailed a long time ago now. And it wasn't like Oswald would be ugly in any way. He was actually quite attractive one might even go as far as to call him pretty with those long lashes and those electric blue eyes. He always felt a shiver running down his spine when Oswald would stare at him with this intent gaze he sometimes had.

For just a moment, Jim was back at the couch and back to their conversation from last night. It was true what Oswald had said. He was a little crooked but only when it came to this man sitting across from him at the kitchen table during breakfast. For some reason, despite all his big talk of cleaning up the city, Jim had always allowed Oswald to roam free. He never pursuit him to get him behind bars, never tried to have him prosecuted despite the evidence he had had on him every now and then. Instead, he had helped Oswald to kill Galavan, he had allowed him to wander off after that. There had been so many instances when he could have caught him and get him the punishment he deserved and yet he never had.

He was growing soft on Oswald.

No, the truth was, he had always been soft on Oswald. It were those god-damn big blue eyes. It was his way of staring at him like a love-struck puppy. Sometimes, when he would look at Oswald, he would find himself back at the pier again and again, back in that situation when he should have put a bullet into his head and refused to. By now, Jim was aware that the city wouldn't have been better off without him no matter what Harvey might say at times.

It wasn't that much later that same day that he found his niece doing a little bit of crafting at the kitchen table with Martin with the old newspapers and magazines they had found in the various cupboards. The two of them had become co-conspirators quite quickly and Jim couldn't help but nudging Oswald as they sat together both engulfed in their own reading to make him look at their kids. Oswald grinned a little before returning back to his book but only after he shot Jim a small glance out of his mischievously twinkling eyes.

Perhaps he thought the same thing as Jim. It was, of course, impossible to say what would become of their kids when they would grow older but the chances were high that they would take after their respective caretakers. Perhaps, in twenty years from now, Jim would try to catch Martin Cobblepot for a crime he had committed and would be just as lenient with the boy as he was with his dad. Or perhaps Barbara would follow in Jim’s footsteps and let her childhood friend run wild all over the city instead of putting him behind bars. Then again, it was just as possible that Martin would not be drawn into the world of crime by Oswald.

Jim was easily distracted these days and so he didn't notice Barbara sneaking up on him and Oswald on the sofa before she cleared her throat. »Look up.« She grinned and as Jim did, he could only knot his eyebrows in confusion. Above his head was some weird green drawing almost resembling some sort of a plant. »It's a mistletoe!« Barbara explained with a grin. »You need to kiss!«

They shared a look and Jim didn't even know what to make of the way Oswald looked at him before Jim glanced back at his niece. However, Martin too seemed on Barbara’s side. »What?« He asked his niece with a small frown.

»You need to kiss!« Barbara repeated with a squeal. »That's tradition!« And she seemed adamant but Jim felt panic rising in his chest. He wanted to give Barbara a good time as long as they were out here in the middle of nowhere, to distract her from the reality of things - but not at the cost of kissing Oswald and feeding into her illusion that he and Oswald might be a thing!

Oswald, however, gave a small sigh and before Jim could even process what was happening, the other man had grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him closer before he felt a pair of warm lips press against his.

 

**-End of Chapter 8-**


	9. Chapter 9

The awkwardness could be sliced with a knife ever since that little kiss he and Jim had shared this morning after Barbara had practically forced them to kiss. He was still not quite sure why she did that but Oswald had proceeded to play along and then grabbed his son to press a kiss to his curls to ease the situation a little.

He hadn't quite succeeded. In his eyes, Jim’s behavior was maybe a little extreme. The awkwardness between them since the kiss was thick and almost uncomfortable. It was ridiculous, to say the least, especially considering that they had slept together on the sofa last night. Oswald had insisted on going with Jim as the cop had told him he would try to track down a bit more firewood after they had already almost used up all the firewood stacked in the small shed near the house.

»Are you sure you don't want to go back?« Jim shot over his shoulder at one point as he was walking ahead of Oswald who was a little slower than the detective because of his bad leg and the added gunshot wound. The bullet entering his leg clearly had not helped his ability to move around freely.

»I’m fine, Detective.« He huffed. »I will go insane if I stay inside one day longer and I can make myself useful out here.« The least he could do would be to help carrying the logs back to the cabin. The look Jim shot over his shoulder was meant as a tease as he adjusted his grip on the ax in his hand. Oswald couldn't quite deny that he liked seeing Jim in these surroundings, with his woolen coat, his hair a bit disheveled, an ax in his hand and stubbles lining his jaw. This look was almost a bit more tempting than the bounty hunter jacket.

»Are you sure?«

»Oh please, Jim.« He chuckled. »I am much stronger than I look. Don't forget that I beat Galavan within an inch of his life with a baseball bat once.«

»How could I?«

Oswald breathed out a small chuckle at this but continued on walking. Jim probably didn't hold Galavan’s death in as fond a memory as Oswald did. Maybe one might argue that the day Jim killed Galavan had been the day when Jim Gordon died as well - or at least the Jim Gordon who once came to this city to clean it up and make it better. And maybe one might argue that Oswald was mourning this man to this day. A part of him had idolized James Gordon and seen the Yin to his Yang in him. Two sides of the same coin, perfectly balanced. The moon needed the sun to shine, after all.

»You know that I had a crush on you when you first came to Gotham, right?« Oswald smirked as they dove deeper into the forest.

»You _had_ a crush on me?« Jim mocked in response but Oswald could see that he was flustered just by the fact that he was not looking at him.

»Back then I would have been perfectly happy if we would be friends, though.« Oswald continued his musings. »I knew that you would never return my feelings anyway and so I thought maybe at least we could be friends or allies and then I thought, maybe being enemies would be enough. I will be honest, Jim, because you helped me in this dire situation with Sofia. When all of this started and I came back to Gotham, I thought you were the hero this city needed. I still believe that - in a way.« Jim snorted at this. »I do. Yes, you’ve done a few morally questionable things but you did them for the greater good and I could see that. When I ran for mayor, I thought that maybe we would end up cleaning this city up together. A lawman and a criminal working together like we were meant to.«

»I’m not sure that this is how things were meant to be.« Jim muttered. »If we would do things like they were meant to be, you would be in jail.«

»True.« Oswald smirked. »Do you sometimes regret not locking me up or shooting me at that pier?«

There was a long moment of heavy silence settling over them while they marched on. They shouldn't go much farther, just in case something happened at the cabin where the kids were playing in the snow.

»No.« Jim finally sighed as they stopped at a clearing surrounded by huge old trees that were hovering threateningly above them. »Back then, during all this drama with Falcone and Maroni, I thought I did regret it, but I didn't. Not really. On that day at the pier I didn't know it yet but when you returned and started to climb up the ladder, I started to realize that you were able to do great things. Maybe not always good things or things I would approve of but certainly great. And maybe, had I known what I know now, I would have done things differently, maybe worked with you instead of rejecting your offers to help me.«

»Oh my, it has to be some kind of Christmas miracle for the great James Gordon to acknowledge his past mistakes.« Oswald chuckled and Jim only rolled his eyes. »You know that I never stopped, right?«

»I can’t follow.«

»I mean … I never stopped having a crush on you.« He smirked slyly. He found joy in throwing Jim off balance like this. »Even when I was in love with Ed. I always had a soft spot for the most handsome detective of the GCPD - the same as you always had a soft spot for the most monstrous criminal of this city.«

»You are no monster.« Jim replied with a frown before he turned to one of the smaller trees and began swinging his ax. It was a surprise to Oswald that Jim didn't even try to argue or turn red at Oswald’s little confession. They truly came a long way as it seemed.

Oswald just wanted to open his mouth to say something else, he heard a gunshot in the distance.

※※※※※※※

Their casual banter was disrupted by a gunshot echoing through the forest. Out here in the middle of nowhere, the sound was deafening and as loud as a cannon going off. Jim was running with the ax still in hand before he knew what was happening around them, Oswald right behind him but hindered by his bad leg.

His mind was racing as he ran through the forest. The rational part of his mind tried to argue that it hadn't been a gunshot, only a loud bang but he knew what he had heard. The sound had been unmistakable. His little girl and Martin were in danger. Sofia had found them. That was what he knew deep down and there was nothing that could convince him otherwise.

They weren't far from the cabin as Oswald’s scream ripped through the forest. »Jim!« The shout came too late as another shot came ringing through the woods.  Still, it was only thanks to Oswald’s shriek that he managed to duck just in time, otherwise the bullet would hit him square in the chest.

The attack came out of nowhere and their attackers were suddenly all around them. A group of four hunky men in suits with guns that clearly had been sent by someone like Sofia Falcone bursting out of the thick brush around them. They had run straight into a trap and there was no way to escape from it.

Jim knew right then and there that Sofia wouldn't want him dead per se and that she would rather kill Oswald herself than having him shot out here by one of her goons. This was not about killing them right here in the middle of nowhere. No, those men were supposed to drag them back to the cabin so that Sofia could kill them right there and do it herself. This was personal, after all. That, however, meant that they still had a chance to fight them. That was the thought that made Jim throw himself into the danger and right at the man closest to him.

He was glad that Oswald did the very same thing despite his injury. Oswald fought like a madman against their attackers because this was no longer just about their own lives but about their children first and foremost. The longer they would be out here with those lunatics, the longer their kids would be in danger. And yet, Oswald was not much of a physical fighter unlike Jim. He was horribly at a disadvantage and soon screamed out in pain as he landed on the ground.

It was this agonized scream that made Jim lose his focus as he was throwing his next punch and instead was at the receiving end of the butt of a rifle aimed straight for his head. Jim slumped into the snow with a deep groan ripping from his throat but his attention was on Oswald. His heart was racing like mad as he saw the other man lying in the snow with blood seeping out of him from a wound in his side. One of the attackers had rammed a knife in his side as it seemed but the injury was not life-threatening at least.

This didn't change anything about the panic rising in his chest. They were completely overwhelmed by their attackers and he knew that there would not be a chance for both of them to escape certain death either out here in the middle of nowhere or at the cabin in front of their kids. He wished he would have had more time with Oswald to explore this new friendship that they had built - to see if this could become something more.

No matter the odds that were stacked against him and Oswald or how wrong it might be for them to follow those urges, Jim could still feel the lips of the fearless gangster on his own, the softness of his kiss. He had always thought Oswald’s kisses would be more of the bruising and violent kind, all tongue and teeth. He couldn't stand the thought that he wouldn't get to explore this any further - and no less because his own pride had caused him to even make contact with Sofia Falcone in the first place.

Oswald looked at him from where he was lying and although the moment lasted only a few seconds, before a meaty fist buried inside Oswald’s raven hair to pull him to his knees, it seemed like a lifetime.

»Miss Falcone wants to shoot you herself.« The man that was grabbing Oswald groaned. »But she didn't say we couldn't maim you a bit - and she didn't say anything about Gordon either.«

One of the other men laughed and cocked his gun. Jim felt the nuzzle of the gun press against his temple before he saw the gun that was pointed at his head.

»No!« He could hear Oswald shout and his voice seemed to crack around the edges. »Please leave him out of this! He has nothing to do with this!« And he could feel that Oswald was not just begging for Jim’s life now just for Jim’s sake. He was begging for Barbara and maybe even for Martin because Oswald knew that Jim would take care of his boy if he would die out here now. Oswald, much like Jim, had probably always known that his life would be a short one because his life was a dangerous one and Jim had refused to see it like this until this very moment.

In becoming Barbara's caretaker, he had been forced to confront his own mortality and to think before running into the action and the flames. He wasn't alone anymore. He had the responsibility for another human being, for his little girl and Barbara was counting on him. And the same was true for Oswald as well now. He was so much more than just a gangster who got on Jim’s nerves all too often. So much more than a mere friend or ally whenever he needed him. They had always been tied together by something stronger than this from the first moment they had met in the alley behind Fish Mooney’s club. Two sides of the same coin.

How would he go on without him? How would Gotham go on without him?

He could hear the clicking sound as the trigger was pulled back and he knew that there was no way out of this. He didn't even look up at the guy who was going to shoot him. His eyes were glued to Oswald as his electric blue eyes were wide in horror. The worst about the situation was that he would die and he couldn't do anything to protect Oswald from facing the same fate. The thought of Oswald with a hole in his head was horrifying to him. The thought that he had missed his chance of happiness was horrifying to him.

He had fucked up so many times. He had chased and chased and chased the danger, made mistake after mistake and now he got the punishment for it. And he would leave Barbara behind in pain and fear and heartbreak.

A shot rang through the forest but the world didn't turn black all at once. There was the loud thump of something falling to the ground and for the briefest moment, Jim was certain that,  if he would turn his head, he would see Oswald lying dead in the snow. Instead, the man standing before him fell dead to the ground and as he turned his head, he saw that their other attackers were doing the same thing as another shot rang out - and another and another.

»Jim!« Harvey. He would recognize his partner’s voice under a thousand. Harvey was here and he wasn’t alone either. To his genuine surprise, he saw not only Gabe follow the seasoned cop but none other than Headhunter, this weird assassin friend of Zsasz - which explained the swiftness of the attack.

Before his partner could reach him, however, Jim quickly crawled over to Oswald to give him a once over and if he was cradling his face a little too carefully and too much like he would be touching a china cup, none of the others said anything about it. »Are you okay?« He gasped as he stared into those huge blue eyes.

»Besides the gaping hole in my side?« Oswald mused with a small huff and quickly Jim remembered that they were not alone as he carefully helped Oswald to his feet. He avoided looking at Harvey at this because he knew exactly how his partner would look at him if they would exchange a glance. He knew what this looked like to his partner and everyone else. He could see it in the grin Headhunter shot him as Oswald leaned into his side for support instead of leaning into Gabe as the huge man was offering his help to his boss.

»We need to get back!« Jim then turned to Harvey in alarm. Their kids were still in grave danger. Oswald was even slower now than before and his blood was painting the snow as they were hurrying back to the cabin through the woods. At least they were not alone anymore. They could stand a chance now against Sofia and maybe save their kids.

As they arrived at the cabin everything was quiet and that was never a good sign, to begin with. Two black jeeps were parked just a bit further down the road and he couldn't even see Harvey’s car at first. He probably parked further down the road to gain an advantage. The door to the cabin was wide open and the silent laying steadily over the scene was more unsettling than having a gun shoved into his face.  

»Stay back.« He whispered at Oswald but it was clear that the other man would not listen to him. Oswald never listened and he wouldn't even expect him to. That just wasn't who Oswald Cobblepot was, at the end of the day. Jim inched closer to the open door and carefully poked his head around the corner. The house was a complete mess. Furniture was thrown over or smashed completely with the exception of one single wooden chair in the middle of the main room.

He could see even in the dim light of the room, that there was someone sitting on the chair with their back turned to the entrance. He could make out Sofia’s long hair as he inched closer. He was careful not to move too quickly in fear of traps or hidden gunmen. He couldn't see the kids anywhere. He had almost expected to see them huddled on the sofa in front of Sofia, trapped by her and held at gunpoint but that wasn’t the case.

The moment Jim carefully stepped over the threshold, however, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat and his gaze shot over to the kitchenette. There the kids sat at the table as if nothing had happened, accompanied by Victor Zsasz who waved at them with one of his trademark shark-like smiles.

»Took you a while!« He grinned. »Tough kids you got there, Boys. I didn't have to do anything when I reached the house. They already took care of Sofia.«

Barbara grinned at him from the table. She seemed completely unbothered by the destroyed cabin and the blood here and there or the fact that they had just been attacked and perhaps almost killed. She truly was a champ. Martin, on the other hand, jumped from his chair as Oswald limped inside. »Martin!« The gangster called even before the little guy could throw himself at his dad. Jim walked over to scoop Barbara up in his arms before he went over to Sofia only to see that she was gagged and bound to the chair by what looked like very old rope.

»We hid in the closet when the evil woman came to the house.« Barbara explained swiftly. »We saw their cars coming when we played outside and Martin told me that we should better hide. Martin found the rope in the closet and then we tricked her. It was easy.« She seemed almost a little disappointed by the fact just how easy it had been for her and Martin to trick and overpower Sofia. She looked almost as disappointed as Zsasz for not having the chance to enjoy the action. »Martin is so clever! He put up a trap over the bedroom door and she fell for it right away!« She then grinned even wider, a small giggle escaping her throat at that.

Would this whole situation not be so surreal and strange, Jim would have laughed about Barbara’s joy as she described how Martin and she had knocked out a gangster and tied that same gangster to a chair as if it was nothing. Clearly, he shouldn't have let her watch Home Alone last Christmas. Then again … His little girl was safe and that was all that mattered in the end - even though she might be cut out for vigilante work a little too much for his liking.

※※※※※※※

The night hung low above Gotham as Oswald tried to find a comfortable position in his hospital bed. The mattress was too hard and the pillows too soft. He wanted to sleep in his own bed again. Already he had spent too much time sleeping on some sofa in some abandoned cabin in the woods or now in this hospital bed just because some guy got lucky and stabbed him in the side. Well, that and the gunshot wound in his already bad leg had gotten infected over the past couple of days in the middle of nowhere.

The only good thing about him having to spend time in the hospital was his son coming by to check up on him and bring him his favorite chocolate with dear old Gabe or Butch as his babysitter to keep an eye on things.

Everything could have turned out much worse and Oswald was very aware of that fact. He could have died out there - worse, the kids could have died or gotten harmed. Jim could have died. Jim _had_ almost died.

It still seemed a bit unfair, though, that Jim was already galavanting around the city again and was allowed to play hero for the people as if he hadn't been almost killed by Sofia’s henchmen as well as Oswald. No. Of course, _the_ Jim Gordon had had everything under control in that dire situation out there in the middle of nowhere as always while Oswald was assigned the role as the damsel in distress, saved by Bullock and Gordon. Well, he could live with that as long as he got his chocolates and at least one or two visits from his favorite detective.

The truth was, this moment in the forest when this brute had almost shot Jim, was still the cause of his most vivid nightmares even now. He had almost lost the detective and he had seen it in Jim’s eyes at that exact moment that he had thought a very similar thing to what Oswald had thought right then and there. Still, they hadn't quite decided to discuss that topic again since then.

»So I heard you are terrorizing the hospital staff. Not that I would be surprised about that per se, but perhaps you should lay low. Nurses are sometimes very resentful and can hold a grudge for a while. You won't want them to accidentally kill you with your own pillow, right?«

»Jim Gordon - how exciting to see you here.« Oswald grinned as he looked over to the door where Jim stood in his black coat, with his hair combed back neatly, looking a little more put together than usual. »They wouldn't dare to smother the king of Gotham. They love me. I am the one who keeps them employed, right?«

»You know, I won’t even dignify that with an answer, Cobblepot.« Jim huffed as he walked over to the bed and sat down on the chair next to Oswald. To his surprise, Jim took his hand that was lying on the bed uselessly as if it was normal for them to touch in such a way. »And I don't even want to know how exactly you keep them employed either. Otherwise, I would have to lock you up, I suppose.«

That drew a low chuckle from his throat. »And I am to believe that you would actually do your job for once?« He asked with a lopsided smile that only forced another huff from Jim before Jim took his hand away again. He seemed a little uneasy suddenly, a little nervous even as he sat there and rubbed his hands over his legs.

»I have something for you.« Jim then said and pulled something out of the pocket of his coat. »But you have to close your eyes.«

»Kinky.« Oswald smiled but dutifully closed his eyes. »I trust you, James Gordon, not to kill me now of all possible scenarios you could have killed me in.«

Jim, again, didn't dignify his words with an answer. »Open your eyes.« He said instead after a second or two and as Oswald did open his eyes, he noticed that Jim was holding something above his head. He knew what it was even before he followed his outstretched arm and saw the mistletoe dangling from his fingers.

The smile that crept up on him barely had any time to manifest on his face before James leaned in closer until their lips met. It was different than the first time. No fireworks either, only the feeling of finally coming home.

 

**-End of Chapter 9-**


	10. Epilog

The house was a lot louder these days and it was not just because of the new campaign Oswald was running from his ancient family mansion - much to the delight of Gotham’s citizens. And although already people were running wild in these ancient halls this early in the day on a Saturday, Jim was turning over in the large bed contently, pulling Oswald closer against his body again. He would have loved to sleep naked with his lover at his side but with two kids in the house, this would just not be a very sensible thing to do.

»Already awake?« Oswald hummed as he curled against his side and put his head on Jim’s chest, refusing to even open his eyes briefly to look at the cop. Who would have thought that someone like James Worthington Gordon would ever feel so content sleeping in the same bed as a known gangster? Well, to give Oswald the credit he deserved, he was not only a bloodthirsty gangster but a businessman and the future mayor of Gotham - again. There was no chance Mayor James would win against Oswald this time just like last time.

He couldn't deny that he was quite proud of his gangster bird and perhaps there was still the faint hope buried deep within Jim’s own heart that Oswald might put his back to the world of crime altogether at some point. It might be foolish to still hope for that outcome but Jim was an idealist and he had gotten to see sides of this man ever since the Falcone debacle that he had never dared to believe existed.

»Mhm.« He hummed quietly. It wasn't _that_ early in the day - not by a longshot - but Jim had come home late last night and he felt as if he wanted to sleep at least until Olga would serve lunch. That Oswald was still in bed with him was a surprise, though. His boyfriend was an early riser most of the time. Then again, it was Saturday and although that would not usually keep him in bed unless Jim would tie him to it to have his way with Oswald, it was giving Jim hope that Oswald finally realized he could calm down a bit before the election day would roll around.

The people of Gotham loved their flamboyant penguin. Of course, Oswald had spun quite the tale of how he had helped the GCPD to get Sofia Falcone behind bars and how he had nearly been killed in the process. Oswald knew how to use the most troubling situations in his favor. At least Oswald had allowed Jim to shine in those news stories as well as the hero who had come to his aide and risked his own life in all this mess, which in turn had strengthened the general public's opinion of the GCPD as well too.

»Nervous before the big day?« Jim then mumbled as he pressed a kiss to Oswald’s forehead which finally prompted the other man to open his eyes.

»You know me too well.« He breathed out in a sigh. It wasn’t hard to read Oswald at times. He had practically been vibrating with anxiety for the last couple of days. Soon all of this would be over and Oswald back in city hall. Last time that thought had frightened him and now he was actually looking forward to that day. Odd how the tides had turned.

»You don't need to.«

»I know … I know ... It's just … Bad memories, you know?«

Nygma, he meant to say but ever since he had told Jim the story of how Nygma ended up killing Isabella and blamed Oswald for the deed, Oswald hadn't taken the name into his mouth again. The name was like a curse hanging over the house and Oswald’s candidacy - not that anyone would acknowledge that.

»Last time … Honestly, if it hadn't been for … I was a mess most of the time.«

»You weren't.« Jim huffed with new found conviction. He remembered how surprised he had been during Oswald’s first run as mayor how well everything had been working out under his control. The underworld and the rest of Gotham almost peaceful under his rule. It had only been his own ego and pride stopping him from admitting it back then. »Ed was just your chief of staff, Oswald. You were the one who did all the actual work. You were the one the people loved and who did a great job as mayor. Not him. You will do just fine without him.«

»And I still got you, right?«

»You still got me.« Jim huffed gently. They were not exactly hiding their relationship from the public. Jim was living at the manor with Barbara for six months now, after all. However, they were not going to the press with it either. Jim enjoyed the little corner he had cut out for himself in Oswald’s life these days. It was quiet and astoundingly peaceful most days and Barbara was in safe hands even when Jim wasn't around, whether it be those hands would belong to Oswald or Butch or Gabe or sometimes even Zsasz. Well, Jim had come a long way when he allowed Victor Zsasz to babysit his little girl.

Then again, after this whole mess with Sofia, Zsasz seemed loyal to Oswald completely now - and quite smitten with both Martin and Barbara. Don Falcone's death had been tough for the assassin, even though Jim would never have thought that he would ever see anything but a blood-thirsty killer in Victor. Finding out about Sofia's involvement of her father's murder hadn't been quite so hard for him and gathering the evidence even easier. It was a miracle that Sofia Falcone was still alive in Blackgate to this day. Jim would have expected Zsasz to kill her behind bars in retaliation.

Even Harvey somewhat approved of their relationship and wasn’t his captain’s opinion worth its weight in gold to Jim?

»Are the kids up already?« Jim then murmured and received a knowing little smirk from Oswald.

»They went out with Butch an hour ago, playing in the garden.«

Before Oswald could do anything about it, Jim had rolled on top of him at those words. »So we have time.« He concluded with a toothy grin and was very much relieved to feel how Oswald readily put his slim legs around his waist in response. Jim would lie if he would say he wouldn't love slow mornings like these when he would meet Oswald’s lips in a warm embrace and feel the gangster melt into him at once at the tiniest touch.

Oswald seemed starved for the attention and Jim’s hot kisses burning a trail down his throat. In fact, Jim was just about to slowly move under the blanket to explore Oswald’s body and brush his lips over the scar in his side, as the door to the bedroom burst open.

»Uncle Jim!« Barbara’s voice echoed through the bedroom and, with a small groan, Jim fell on his back next to Oswald again who dared to chuckle at his boyfriend's misfortune as he was already dragging his body into a sitting position. He had probably heard the kids approach and had decided not to say anything. Martin was hot on Barbara’s trail and actually the first one to climb up on the bed just as Jim slowly sat up. Butch, however, came to a halt in the bedroom door, panting like he had been running after the two kids like a madman. He seemed horribly uncomfortable to see his boss and Jim in bed together.

Only as the little redhead came to a halt next to Jim’s side of the bed, Jim realized that she was holding something clasped carefully in her little hands. »Look what we found in the garden!« She exclaimed and carefully lifted her left hand from where it was clasped above the right to reveal the tiny beak of a bird. »I think it has a broken wing!«

»It's a Bullfinch!« Martin’s voice was still a bit hesitant and more often than not came with a small stutter but at least he was talking again and he was making progress. Jim would never forget the day when Martin had walked up to Oswald, carefully pulled on his sleeve to get his attention as he always would, opened his mouth and very quietly called him ‘Papa’ for the very first time. They didn't know why Martin had stopped talking before that very day and they didn't know why he came back around and reclaimed his voice and it didn't seem important.

Whatever horrible things had happened to the small boy, whatever he had witnessed before Oswald came into his life, he was getting better each day and that was really all that mattered.

Jim carefully took the small bird from Barbara’s hand to examine its wings as Oswald pulled Martin into his lap and wrapped his arms around the boy. Barbara too climbed up on the bed and Butch left a bit hurriedly before Oswald could yell at him to go and do his job.

»No.« Jim smiled at Martin. »It's a Robin.« He then explained as he noted the small patch of fluffy orange feathers on the bird’s chest. It was almost still a baby, had probably fallen from its nest in an attempt to fly a little too soon. »See?« He pointed out the orange feathers to the children and was rewarded with big eyes and eager nods.

»Can we keep it?« Barbara asked with her big blue eyes and even before he heard Oswald hum in agreement, Jim knew that neither one of them would be able to deny their kids anything at all.

 

**-End of Chapter 10-**


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